Forging Bonds
by rebelrsr
Summary: There's a new Big Bad in Sunnydale. Will a shy witch and a renegade Slayer be able to forge a bond strong enough to help defeat it?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own only the original characters. All the really good ones belong to Joss & Co, damn it.

Spoilers: Set sometime between "Zeppo" and "Bad Girls." I've pretty much wadded up all of S3 and randomly torn out people, places, and events for my own nefarious purpose.

A/N: Special thanks to Xanthe for creating the Dom/sub universe. I've borrowed liberally for this. If you aren't familiar with Xanthe… Every person is born a Dominant, submissive, or switch. That means the vanilla world is pretty much missing. In my version of her society, it is common for submissives to be collared, sexually teased, or punished in public – and in the workplace.

A/N2: To make this even more complicated, the premise behind this story is an amalgam of fic requests from the Glee_Kink_Meme (without any of the Glee). For this fic, keep in mind that everyone has a soul mate picked by Fate and with whom they share a telepathic and empathic bond. This bond can be broken with traumatic results. Those whose bond is broken are known as the Forsaken.

A/N3: This is the prequel to my fic "Broken Bonds." The stories can be read separately but there are characters and relationships that may make more sense if you read them in order.

"Are you going tonight?" Trish asked. She dropped into the chair next to Tara with a tired sigh. "It's supposed to be _the _event of the year. The Council's bringing some heavy hitters from around the world to rub elbows with the simple denizens of Sunnydale."

Tara kept her eyes on her textbook. Of course she wasn't going, and Trish knew that. Tara hated parties. Actually saying she wouldn't go, however, would cause Trish to poke and prod about why. Smart money was on remaining silent and pretending to study. Too bad the chapter on the foundation of the American novel didn't hold her attention. Her mind wandered. What would it be like to feel free enough, confident enough, to go to the Slayers Council meet and greet?

"Tara?" As expected, Trish hadn't given up.

With a sigh, Tara closed her book and glanced up through the protective curtain of her hair. "I'm not g-going."

Trish rolled her eyes. "I knew you were going to say that."

"Then why did you ask?" Keeping the exasperation from her voice was a struggle. Tara managed only because getting mad at Trish was useless. Trish would only smile and go right back to trying to arrange Tara's social life. "I haven't gone to a single one of your parties in six months."

"I live in hope you will one day wake up and see the sexy subs in front of you," Trish intoned. "And Maxie insists I should be a better friend and get you out of your dorm room. This is the only thing I could come up with. UC Sunnydale isn't at the top of the social charts, Tar."

Maxie. Perfect. Tara changed the subject. "How is Maxie? I haven't seen her for a few days."

Anything related to Maxie was like waving a bone in front of a hungry dog. "She's amazing," Trish breathed reverently. Her eyes took on a thousand-yard stare. "Did you see her last week when she picked me up for our date? The dress...Wow. I mean, wow, Tara. She was so beautiful I forgot how to breathe."

Tara shook her head and smiled fondly. "She could be in sweaty gym clothes and smelly socks and you'd forget how to breathe. She's your bondmate, sweetie."

"That's right, Tar. All that beauty and it's mine." With an ostentatious flourish of her left wrist, Trish showed off her heavy stainless steel cuff. "Which is why you need to go to the Council bash tonight. You need to get one of these - and your own collared beauty." She wiggled impatiently in the chair. "Come on. It's one night. Come with us for a few hours. If you hate it, Maxie and I'll bring you home."

"No," Tara repeated, wishing her refusal sounded firmer. Trish always made socializing sound fun and exciting. And Tara was tired of being alone. Most people were bonded by now, and those that weren't had started looking for alternatives.

Trish had a sixth sense when it came to Tara's emotions. She hopped out of her chair and dropped to her knees in front of Tara. "Please?" she begged.

"Did Maxie show you how to do that?" Tara stalled for time. She needed to find her backbone or Trish would be helping her pick out clothes for the party. Unfortunately, Trish didn't take the bait. Tara could _feel _people staring as they walked by and flushed in embarrassment. "Get up," she ordered.

"Nope. You'll have to do better than that." Remaining on her knees, Trish upped the ante. She leaned forward and placed her hands on Tara's knees. "Did you know I make Maxie wheedle for permission to go down on me? She's really good at it." It wasn't clear which activity Trish meant. "I know all the tricks, and I'll use each one until you say yes."

Goddess, she was relentless. Tired of the constant invitations, Tara caved. "Fine. I'll go. But for just a little while, Trish," she added when Trish hopped up and began dancing around the tiny table. "Please stop. After your show of begging, people will think I made you dance for me."

"Ooh! Good. Do you want that with or without clothes?" Trish was giddy with success and Tara had to laugh.

"Get out of here. If I'm going out tonight," Tara tried not to wince, "I have studying to do."

Trish sobered. "I'm glad you're going, Tara. Maxie and I are worried about you." Bestowing a quick hug, she gave Tara a final smile. "We'll pick you up at seven. Wear your best duds and be ready to have a good time."

A good time. Tara closed her eyes and sighed. Right.

The Council had rented out the clubhouse at the Sunnydale Country Club for the dance. Tara watched the cars ahead of them inch closer to the valet stand. She should have stayed at home.

"I used the child safety locks on the doors. You can't jump out and run away, Tara." Trish didn't even glance into the back seat as she spoke.

Maxie did, though. She turned within the confines of her seat belt and gave Tara a sympathetic look. "It won't be that bad, I promise. I went to one of these in Charleston a few years ago. The Watchers can be really formal and uptight. The Slayers and Witches are normal." She paused and tilted her head. "Well, sort of normal. Running around in the middle of the night killing the undead is a little odd."

Tara sat up a little straighter. Witches. How could she have forgotten that most Witches gravitated toward the Slayers Council? It was really the only legitimate way to use magic. By the time Trish stopped the car and got out, Tara felt slightly more positive about the evening. Talking with other Witches wouldn't be so bad.

The valet helped her out of the car when it was apparent Trish had eyes (and hands) only for Maxie. "Thank you," Tara told the uniformed teenager. He blushed and ducked his head, and she caught a glimpse of a black leather cuff on his right wrist. Bonded but not yet collared. Tara turned her eyes away, a little of her enthusiasm slipping away as his marker reminded her again of her solo status.

"Isn't this amazing?" Maxie beamed as they entered the two-story grand entrance to the clubhouse. Several groups of people milled around the large space while others streamed through a set of double doors at the far end. "The one in Charleston was bigger, but the Council goes all out for these no matter where they are."

Maxie was correct. The scene had an old-world charm. Although most of the guests were in business casual, there were others in tuxedos and ball gowns. Trailing behind Maxie and Trish, Tara nodded to a few of the guests who smiled a welcome her way. She relaxed a little with each smile. No one had given her hemp skirt and combat boots a second glance.

The crowd was much larger in the clubhouse meeting space. Tuxedos and gowns were outnumbered three to one by slacks and jeans. "See anything you like?" Trish didn't even have the grace to move close and lower her voice. She shouted her question over the hum of voices and the strains of a string quartet.

"The table decorations are very nice," Tara answered with mock sincerity. She ignored Trish's rolling eyes and Maxie's giggle at her response. She wasn't here to pick up a submissive. She wouldn't mind talking about magic, though. Scanning the crowd with more purpose, Tara realized Trish knew her parties. There were some very good-looking women here. Slayers, from their physique and predatory gates. Not even heels and dresses hid their vocation.

She was _not looking _for a sub. Besides, Tara might wear her cuff on the left but she didn't think any of the Slayers would bend knee at her command. Some of them were submissives; sleeveless dresses did little to hide dynamic markers. Despite their submissive status, though, they all had a striking air of self confidence and power. Shy witches wouldn't stand a chance of Dominating them. Taking a few more steps into the room, Tara eyed a much less physically impressive group of brightly-clad men and women. None of them appeared out of place for a party. The hippy quotient was simply higher than in any other area in the room.

That's when a red-haired blur tackled Tara to the floor. "Oh, hey. I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you all right? You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?" The woman scrambled up and held out her hand. "Do you need a doctor? We have several here tonight."

The rush of words dazed Tara more than the fall.

"You are hurt. Oh, Goddess. Hang on; I'll be right back." The girl sprinted off leaving Tara sprawled on the floor.

Slowly, Tara sat up. She was going to have bruises in the morning, but she was fine. Which she would have told the other woman if she'd stuck around. Climbing to her feet, she brushed off her clothes. "And I thought the party would be boring," she muttered.

"Please do not let any of the children hear you say that," a man said behind her. "They already believe this affair is an attempt to torture them."

Tara spun with a gasp of fright and almost found herself on the floor for the second time that evening as she stumbled over her own feet.

The man lunged forward and caught her under the elbows. "My dear, are you alright?"

It was too similar to the redheaded woman's question. This was crazy. Tara giggled and the man smiled in confusion. He apparently didn't think clumsy women were amusing. "I'm fine. Really. You just startled me."

"Rupert Giles." He took Tara's hand and bowed over it. "Welcome to the Slayers Council Winter Social. Since we have established your good health, would you like me to introduce you around? I must admit I know rather a lot of people." Rupert's eyes twinkled behind his glasses

"Um…" Tara's eyes darted frantically around the room. "I came with friends." Only she didn't see either Trish or Maxie anywhere. Why had she agreed to come tonight?

Straightening, Rupert scanned the room as well, perhaps sensing her unease. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry, Mr. Giles." Mentally shaking herself, Tara placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. "My name is Tara Maclay, and I'd be honored if you'd escort me around the party." She tilted her head in his direction. "As long as your Dominant doesn't mind," she said.

His free hand reached up to brush the collar showing above the sharp points of his tuxedo shirt. "My dear Lady Lydia is quite aware of my habit for finding beautiful young Dominants and luring them into danger with my irrepressible charm."

Tara giggled. Rupert was funny – and charming, as he'd mentioned. "You don't mind if I ask to meet Lady Lydia first then?" Better safe than sorry when swanning around the room with someone else's submissive. "I'm curious. You mentioned danger. No one said I might be risking life and limb to attend." Then again, she _had _been knocked to the floor already.

Rupert's laugh turned heads. "The Council has few dull moments. Not all of them are demon related, Miss Maclay. We are, after all, an organization dedicated to Slayers. They are daring young women with truly amazing skills - and a penchant for mischief." Leading her around the tables, Rupert set a course for a small group conversing near the overloaded buffet table.

Eyes wide, Tara noticed each of them had plates so stuffed with food that a stray breath might blow the contents onto the floor.

"Good evening, ladies - and Xander." Rupert didn't bow as they approached the group. He merely stopped and waved at Tara with a flourish. "This is Tara Maclay. She challenged me to prove the party was not as dull as she believes. May I trust in your assistance?"

"You need more than our help, Giles." The only man in the group (Tara assumed he was Xander) winked at her. "Even zombies are livelier. Remember last week at Chez Summers? Those guys knew how to dance...and shed the occasional body part, too. Do you see any of that going on here?"

Rupert's sigh was pained. "Ignore him, Tara, please. Xander has always been a thorn in my side, forever ruining my attempts at a sober and serious conversation. It is my honor to introduce you to some of our guest Slayers this evening. Raquel Saenz from Mexico City. Jennifer Reynolds from Green Bay. And Elspeth Davies from Swansea, England." Leaning close to Tara, he whispered conspiratorially, "Ellie is my favorite, but you cannot tell the others."

The Slayers all burst into laughter. "I'm the favorite of the moment because I brought an entire suitcase of Bovril." Elspeth held out her hand to Tara. "As soon as he drinks it all, he'll forget he even met me."

Tara noticed the calluses on Elspeth's palm as she took the other girl's hand. "I don't know. Mr. Giles seems like a very nice man. He'd remember your name, at least." Then her better nature took over. "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles. That was rude," she told him softly, glancing quickly up at him. Her face grew warm, and she ducked behind her hair.

"It's of no concern, my dear. Really. This lot are exceedingly brash and outspoken. I am used to their teasing and the numerous slurs on my character." Rupert's smirk indicated he might actually enjoy them. "Now, there are many more people for you to meet. Including my Lady Lydia. I relish the thought of you inquiring about her feelings regarding my escort duties."

Before he had a chance to resume their trek through the room, another tuxedo-clad man hurried to Giles. They shared an intense, whispered conversation while everyone pretended not to watch.

"I apologize, Tara." Giles' previous levity was conspicuously absent. "Remember our conversation regarding mischief? I fear I cursed the evening and must now deal with a developing situation. However, I do not leave you to fend for yourself. I will summon…"

"Giles, I love you like a brother," Xander interrupted, causing Rupert to wince. "Tara needs to stay here with us. We're more her speed. I promise we'll do the introductions - only we'll pick all the interesting people." He didn't back down at Rupert's glare. "We got this; trust me."

Glare fading, Rupert nodded. "Very well, Xander. I will allow you to take over my escort duties. However," and he pointed a finger at Xander, "you will not lead Tara astray. One incident this evening is all I am willing to handle." Expectations complete, Rupert bowed once more to Tara. "It has been a pleasure, Ms. Maclay. Please let me know if there is any other service I might provide."

As he walked away, Elspeth muttered, "I'm English, and he's too stuffy for me. All those big words make my head hurt."

"So, Tara, now that you're hanging with us..." Xander wrapped an arm around Tara and spun her back toward the tables and chairs. "Who would you like to meet first? Over there," he pointed to a large contingent of older men and women in formalwear, "are the rest of the Giles clones. Not all of them have accents, but they do share a thing for Tweed."

Tara had liked Giles. She wouldn't mind talking to others like him. She didn't say anything, though because Xander had already turned a little to the right. "Or more Slayers. Other little Ellies and Raquels from around the world." As he pointed out a cluster of young women dining at tables across the room, one of them glanced up. Xander stiffened. "Or my personal favorite, the Witchy Crew. I say that not because I like being accidentally turned into the man all women in Sunnydale want. No. Really. It was horrible." He mock shuddered. "I say they are my favorite because my very best friend is a witch."

Definitely the witches. However, Tara didn't want to impose on Xander. He'd been enjoying the party with his Slayer friends before Mr. Giles had brought Tara over. "Thank you, Xander. I can find my way there."

His eyes grew wide and his shoulders slumped.

Tara braced for impact. She'd seen Maxie try the same trick with Trish, and _she _wasn't going to get sucked in by the act.

Xander's chin dipped. "Please, Tara?" Peering up at her through his lashes, he said in a pathetic plea, "You wouldn't want me to get in trouble because I didn't take care of you the way I promised, right?"

No wonder Trish gave in every time Maxie did this. Tara glanced away from Xander. Took several deep breaths. Rocked back and forth on her toes. And the whole time, she could feel his eyes watching her. "Xander." Why was her voice so weak?

Jennifer chuckled. "Be strong, Tara. Don't give the rest of us Dommes a bad name. If you give in to him, he'll expect all of us to do it."

Was she implying people managed to ignore Xander's expression? If so, then it must be possible. Tara squared her shoulders and gripped her resolve. "Xander, I don't need an escort," she said firmly. See? She could do this.

Then she made the mistake of bringing her attention back to Xander. His eyes were so soft. And Tara hated to see the defeated slump in his posture; it made her want to pull him into her arms and take care of him.

She barely heard Jennifer mutter, "Well, she almost won. I'll have to let everyone know Buffy's the only one he can't beat."

"Oh, sweetie, don't look like that." Tara patted Xander's arm and watched his eyes grow the slightest bit more hopeful. There. That was better, but…not good enough. "If it's so important to you, of course you can introduce me to your friend."


	2. Chapter 2

Slouching in her chair, Faith glowered at the bare wall behind Giles' desk. How the Hell had the Council goons found her? She'd hitched a ride nearly to Los Angeles, and the bar she'd found wouldn't have gotten Giles' approval (or the Health Department's). Remembering the scene they'd created dragging her out... Faith's scowl deepened. She was sick of this shit. Maybe it was time to find another city. Sunnydale was too small. And it already had a Slayer, the Council's Golden Girl, Buffy Summers.

Los Angeles was way bigger. There was actually a Council HQ there, along with a team of Slayers. It would be easier to get lost there. Give the Watchers a slip. Giles was too smart, and he managed to be one step ahead of her most of the time. He wasn't even her Watcher.

Her Watcher was dead.

Faith's slouch turned into a noticeable slump. It was a good thing Giles wasn't her Watcher. He might be an uptight pain in the ass, but Faith didn't want anything to happen to him. Not like what had happened to Diana.

"_You should enjoy this, Slayer. I know I will." Kakistos smiled and his fangs gleamed. _

_Faith wanted to scream at him but no sound emerged when she opened her mouth. As she stood there, legs somehow trembling and unmoving at the same time, he turned to where Diana hung from the ceiling. His knife carved intricate patterns in her skin while Diana screamed. Faith's eyes closed and then immediately reopened. The screams were even worse when paired with her imagination rather than reality. _

_Drops of blood turned into a puddle. There were so many cuts on Diana that she was barely recognizable. Only her voice, now hoarse and broken from screaming, and her eyes seemed familiar. _

Jumping from her chair, Faith fled the memories in long strides back and forth across the office. She had to get out of here. The door wasn't an option. There were two Retrieval Team members standing guard in the hallway. They couldn't take Faith in a fight, but _she _couldn't win against their tranquilizer guns. She changed course and hurried to the bank of windows on the far wall.

Damn it! Giles' office was on the third floor. There was only a small overhang and a complete lack of useful foliage. Slayer healing wouldn't repair shattered bone fast enough for her to make her escape. She was trapped. Her pacing resumed at a more frantic pace. If Giles didn't get here soon, she'd risk taking on the goons in the hall. Her thoughts summoned him. The door opened crisply, and Faith spun. "What the..."

"Be silent." Giles' crisp English accent gave his command more weight. Faith's hands clenched as she pressed her lips together. "I cannot believe tonight's report. Did we not have this same conversation earlier in the week?"

Instead of answering, Faith dropped into a chair and fixed her eyes on the shiny "Rupert Giles, Watcher" nameplate on Giles' desk. The room grew silent, and the weight of Giles stare settled on Faith's shoulder. She struggled against the sudden need to apologize. She'd done nothing wrong. The Council was too uptight.

Giles didn't break. He pulled another chair close to Faith and sat down. Waiting.

"It was one drink." Faith extended her feet and crossed her legs at the ankles. "One fucking drink." She would have had a lot more if the Retrieval Team hadn't shown up.

"I should not have to point out that you are underage." Clothes rustled as Giles leaned forward. "I know things have been difficult lately, my dear. Had you come to me, perhaps we could have found a more acceptable way for you to deal with recent events and to enjoy an evening on the town. What would have happened if someone in that bar had attacked you?"

Please. "I'm a Slayer, G-man." Faith enjoyed a brief flare of amusement at his grimace. "If anyone in the bar'd attacked me, they'd have been on the ground in seconds." Giles knew that. He was simply worried about the Council's reputation. He'd already lectured her on maintaining a "proper" decorum.

"That isn't the point, Faith, and you are well aware of that." He sighed and took off his glasses. Without the shielding lenses, Giles appeared tired. "Your sparring skills," Faith knew he meant _brawling _skills, "have never been in doubt. Your Watcher accounts were very complimentary in that regard. Accidents do happen, however. And human adversaries rarely follow the same traditions as demonic ones. Not even your Slayer abilities would defeat a bullet."

He peered short-shortsightedly at her, and Faith shifted uncomfortably. Giles' gaze was so kind. So concerned. She'd given him nothing but trouble from the minute she'd arrived in Sunnydale, and he still seemed to care. Faith wasn't used to that. She didn't understand it. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I guess... I guess I didn't think of that." Faith wasn't big on thinking. She was more comfortable with action. "What happens now?" Her latest escapade involved the Retrieval Team - and that made her screw up official. Giles wouldn't be able to hide it from the Council.

"I don't know." Faith might have hugged him for the lie if she did that sort of thing. "Quentin has already scheduled a call first thing in the morning to discuss options."

Quentin, the Senior Watcher on the Council. Faith's stomach did a slow roll. "It's going to be... I mean..." she couldn't even say the words "Judicial Punishment." There were three in her file already. Another one... Faith closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, praying she wouldn't puke.

"As I said, I do not know what Quentin will decide. I will recommend a period of house arrest with additional training in Slayer Comportment." Faith heard Giles stand up and reopened her eyes. "Please consider speaking with one of the Council psychologists, Faith." He must have noticed her stony expression because he nodded slightly. "We are all here to help you, Faith. If you do not wish to use official resources, I would be happy to offer my services. And Buffy has already spoken to me about acting as your mentor."

Why would they do that? Faith gazed back at Giles in confusion, unable to put her questions into words.

Giles walked over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Faith…"

"Don't touch me!" Faith reacted instantly. Slapping his hand away, she stood, putting her back to the desk and eyeing Giles warily.

He stepped back and held up both hands. "My apologies." Was that a hint of hurt in his voice?

Even though Faith regretted insulting Giles, she didn't respond. Her hands reached back and gripped the edge of the desk. She struggled to slow her breathing and hide the way her muscles jumped and twitched in reaction to the adrenaline rushing through her body.

"There is nothing more to be done tonight." Giles was all business now. Faith dropped her eyes so she wouldn't have to witness the loss of compassion in his gaze. She hadn't done anything to earn it anyway. "With your activities this evening a matter for the Council, I propose we do a spot of public relations campaigning. You will return to your quarters, change into your best outfit, and return to the Winter Social with me. You wanted a night away from the House," he said with grim humor. "You shall have one. And if your behavior is sterling enough, I may yet talk Quentin out of serious consequences."

Faith laughed. Giles must be drunk. "You think taking me to a party is going to help with that? Are there people at this party?" Unless it was a party of two – and Faith didn't think Lydia would let Giles even _think _about that – having Faith attend would be a nightmare. She managed to insult or irritate everyone she met without even trying.

"The other option is for you to actively participate in an emergency session with a Council psychologist tonight," Giles said firmly.

Actively participate. Faith didn't even hesitate. "I'll be ready in fifteen." Pushing away from the desk, Faith walked out of the office without once glancing at Giles. He'd won this round. Playing nice with the rest of the Council bigwigs and townies would suck, but Faith wasn't spilling her guts to a shrink.

The Retrieval Team officers followed her to the bedroom assigned to Faith in the Council's Sunnydale facility, a large three-story house near the university. Faith ignored them. She did leave the door open in invitation, though, as she changed into her best pair of tight black leather pants and matching vest. A quick touch up on the kohl around her eyes and a hair fluff completed Faith's preparation.

The whole process took minutes, and Faith beat Giles to the chauffeured car waiting outside the house.

The party tested Faith's resolve. It was lame. She hugged the back wall of the large room and thought longingly of the Jack and Coke she'd almost drank at the bar earlier. A good buzz _might _make the rest of the night tolerable.

Unfortunately, Giles had stationed himself nearby, and there were probably photo warnings of her at the bar. Faith wasn't getting anything alcoholic here.

"I like the look." Somehow, Buffy had snuck up on Faith. "The brooding loner, propping up the wall. Are you _trying _to attract a Dominant for the night? Or was this your latest attempt to scare us all away with your laser-like glare?"

"Must be the first, right? 'Cause you're here and not stumbling for the door in them stupid heels, B." Not that scaring Buffy had been a possibility. It had taken only a single sparring session to show Faith why her original Watcher had sung Buffy's praises. Buffy was wicked fast and far better trained. "You lookin' for something with more curves than the X-Man?"

She'd pushed too hard. Faith knew it the second she'd brought Xander into the conversation. Buffy moved so fast Faith didn't see her coming. A forearm to her throat held Faith pinned to the wall. "I'm trying very hard to remember why I like you. It's like you can't help yourself. One minute you're normal. Just another Slayer to hang out with, another sister in arms. And the next you're some bitch in heat I want to smack down." Buffy pressed close, her eyes blazing with fury and enough Dominance to make Faith squirm. "Don't make me smack you, Faith. You won't enjoy what happens."

Faith nodded as best she could. And the meek, clearly cowed, "Yes, Ma'am," that snuck out in response humiliated Faith. She wasn't afraid of Buffy, even if Buffy _did_ wear her marker on the left.

Buffy peered into Faith's eyes for a long, tense moment. "Jesus, you make me mad sometimes." Releasing Faith, she took a few steps back and straightened the hem of her skirt. "If you can stop glowering, Willow needs our help. She babbled something about a woman on the floor and needing a doctor. Only I think Will lost her. I couldn't really understand. I promised to help, though. She was pretty upset."

It was difficult to ignore the ache in her throat without rubbing it. However, Faith wouldn't give Buffy the satisfaction of knowing she'd hurt her. "Sure. How we gonna know we found the right woman, though? If she ain't on the floor, she could be any of the women here."

"Um, we'll know her when we see her?" Buffy shrugged and rolled her eyes. "We could ask all the women if they want to file charges against a crazy red-haired menace." All her previous aggression faded into a gamin grin. "Want to bet Will won't want Janna to know about this latest accident?"

"And you called me a bitch. That's plain mean, B." Mean and funny. Faith waved to Giles and got his nod of approval before following Buffy as she wended her way through the crowd. There was no one lying on the floor, and no one stopped them to complain about being knocked over. However, Willow's red hair created a beacon for them to follow.

They finally ran her to ground after three tips around the large party room. "I don't understand, Buffy. She was right over there. I was going to ask Janna if she would dance with me and we ran into each other."

Faith figured the truth was probably closer to Willow mowing the missing woman down. Willow traveled at only one speed: supersonic. "What'd she look like, Red?"

"Well, there wasn't any blood. I didn't hit her that hard. She just fell over," Willow answered defensively.

"I don't think that's what Faith meant." Buffy took Willow's hand. "Calm down. We've been trying to find this woman for you. It would help if we know what she looked like. Was she tall? Heavy? What color was her hair? What was she wearing?" Proving she'd been a long-time friend, Buffy did a decent impression of Willow-babble as she spewed out questions.

Willow apparently only _spoke _Willow-babble. She stared at Buffy blankly until she managed to unravel what Buffy wanted to know. "Oh! She was blonde and young. Maybe our age. And she had this really cool, retro-60s style skirt."

That actually helped. Faith scanned the people in the room. Most of them were old. She started sorting out all of the blondes. Too old. Wearing jeans. Slayer. Slayer. Watcher.

When Faith spotted a woman fitting Willow's description, she grinned. Willow had some serious buzzard luck. "Hey, Red, is that her?" Pulling Willow in front of her and pointing across the room, Faith said, "There. The woman with Xander and your Gypsy."


	3. Chapter 3

Xander hadn't gloated over his easy victory. He simply set his plate down and whisked Tara toward the group of witches. "Is this your first Slayer Social? I don't remember you from last year's Summer Soiree. And if you'd met Willow, she would have never stuck you with Giles this time round."

Poor Mr. Giles got very little respect. "No, this is my first Council event. My friend invited me." Invited. Dragged. They were separated only by semantics.

"Why didn't you say you had a friend?" Xander's wink was so overdone, Tara couldn't take offense. "I would be the envy of every man here with a witch on each arm." He carefully skirted an older man who staggered by reeking of alcohol. "Whew! I'm feeling a little tipsy after breathing that in. How about you?"

Tara didn't say anything. They'd nearly reached the witches and she regretted asking for the introduction. Months of avoiding anyone or anything connected with magic… Why break her own rules now? Her footsteps lagged until she followed Xander like a submissive on a leash.

He didn't notice her sudden reticence. "Hey, Janna! I have someone I want you to meet. This is Tara," he announced as if Tara were someone very important. "She was Giles' special guest until he got pulled away." Puffing his chest out, Xander continued. "He asked me to be Tara's escort in his place. I'm escort-worthy."

Janna's expression went completely blank; although her lips twitched for a moment. "I'm sure you are, Xander. Escort-worthy."

Posture deflating some, Xander peered at Janna in confusion.

"He's been the perfect gentleman," Tara defended him. Although, she, too had a hard time not giggling at his obviously unintended double entendre. Placing a hand on his arm, she told him softly, "I appreciate your help, Xander," and enjoyed his flush of pride at her praise. Duty to Xander complete, Tara fell silent.

The silence didn't last long. "Most guests don't request an introduction to us. Slayers are far more exciting. And, well, good looking." Janna tilted her head and regarded Tara curiously. "Are you a witch? You seem familiar."

She shouldn't. Tara had avoided both the Wicca groups on campus and the Council's bi-weekly coven gathering. Those would be the first places her father would search. Why had she come tonight? And why in the world had she thought meeting Janna and her coven was a good plan? "My m-mother was a witch," Tara said. It was too late to leave now. "She taught me a little of the Craft. I haven't pr-practiced much since move...moving here," she admitted

"That's it!" Snapping her fingers, Janna celebrated whatever she'd remembered. "You were in the park last Saturday morning."

Tara's eyes went wide in dismay. Janna hadn't..._when _had Janna… "Oh?" she choked out. Normally Tara worried about blushing. At this particular moment, she wondered if there was a drop of blood anywhere in her head. "Wh-what were you doing th-there so early?" She hadn't stuttered this much since leaving home.

"We'd been out on patrol and took a shortcut through the park. It's common knowledge that Slayers have a tremendous appetite after Slaying. What isn't taught in Basic Slayer classes is how my sub suffers the same Terrible Hunger after a night traipsing through cemeteries." Janna shook her head. "I've never understood it. Willow insisted we visit that little doughnut place on Fairfield, and I decided to indulge her."

"Oh. They have the best doughnuts in town," Xander interrupted. "Especially the jelly-filled ones." He leaned close to Tara and whispered in her ear. "If there's only one left in the box and you're at a research party with Giles, don't take it. He can get scary when he uses big words."

The scenario was highly doubtful. Tara thought Giles seemed more the scones and tea type.

"And yet I seem to remember you eating the last jelly doughnut on multiple occasions, Xander." Janna teased.

"Brave as well as gallant," Tara murmured. She enjoyed the way Xander lit up at the compliments. "I should have asked sooner. Are you a witch, sweetie? Or a Watcher?" He seemed young for that, but surely Watchers went through a training program. Maybe Xander was still learning.

"No magic for me. Well, unless Will uses me for her guinea pig. Which she doesn't do anymore. Ever," Xander rushed to add as he regarded Janna earnestly. "She learned her lesson. We all did."

Was this the spell he'd mentioned before? Had Willow turned him into the man all women wanted by _accident_? Goddess, how powerful was his friend? And Janna was her Dominant? She shivered and disguised it by fussing with the long sleeves of her blouse. "You're a Watcher," she said.

"Nope." Xander turned away from Janna and shook his head. "Boring human. Willow and I got caught up in the whole Slayer thing when Buffy first came to Sunnydale. It's amazing how nearly getting eaten by a horde of crazy vampires will change your life."

"Not boring at all, Xan." Janna tapped him lightly on the back of the head. "Don't let him fool you, Tara. He's an integral part of the team; although he plays the fool well." At her comment, Xander met Tara's eyes, shrugged, and gave a goofy grin.

Tara smiled back. "I'm not fooled. Mr. Giles wouldn't have allowed Xander to escort me if he didn't trust him."

"Now that we've embarrassed Xander completely, why don't I introduce you to the rest of the magic corps? Willow and I are the only full-time witches attached to the Council in Sunnydale. However, there are several large covens in the area. We regularly host local talent as well as hold classes for anyone interested in the arcane." Janna gestured for Tara to follow her. A few steps later, they stopped in front of a table where a young man and woman were engaged in a heated discussion with an older woman.

They were so involved none of them glanced up.

"You are completely wrong in your interpretation of the Aldis' text." The older woman leaned across the table. "Nowhere in his treatise does he espouse the use of magic for the mundane."

The young man immediately disagreed. "It's there, Althenea. How could you miss it?" He reached for a book bag on the floor.

And that's when Janna smoothly interjected. "Good evening. I'm sorry to interrupt; I wanted to introduce you to Tara, a witch new to Sunnydale." She put a gentle hand on Tara's back – and then proceeded to shove her forward.

The hand stayed there, holding Tara in place, as all three witches turned toward her. "H-Hello."

"Hey!" The young man hopped up and held out a hand. "Michael Czajak," he announced. He shook Tara's hand enthusiastically. "And this is Amy Madison," the young woman waved, "and…"

"I can introduce myself, young man." The older woman didn't stand, nor did she offer Tara her hand. Instead, she examined Tara closely. If Janna's hand hadn't been on her back, Tara might have turned tail and run at the measuring gleam in the woman's gaze. "I am Althenea." Her lips lifted in what might have been a smile, but the movement was too slight for Tara to be sure.

"H-Hello." Tara tried to look away from Althenea and found she couldn't. The older woman held her in place with an imperiously raised eyebrow. "It's nice to meet all of you." Althenea might be a tea-sipping terror, but Michael and Amy seemed nice. If she survived the next few minutes, she'd try to find a way to speak with them

"Have you read Aldis' work on the purpose of Magick in the Post-Modern Age?" Althenea inquired.

Oh, she wasn't pulling Tara into the argument. Tara rediscovered her backbone. "I'm more familiar with his work on celestial bodies and their affect on warding spells."

This time, Althenea's expression was more recognizable as a smile. "Indeed. It is his signature work." In a complete change of topic, she said, "I'm only here for the Social. My coven seems to believe I need to be socialized like an ill-mannered puppy."

Tara almost rolled her eyes and she heard two muffled "coughs" behind her.

"My flight back to London doesn't depart until sometime tomorrow afternoon. I'd like you to visit me at the Council house in the morning." Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. "I believe we have much to talk about. I will expect you at nine. Please do not be late."

When Althenea turned her attention back to Michael and Amy, Tara sagged. Dear Goddess.

"Come on," Janna murmured into Tara's ear. "We've been dismissed." They walked away from the table. "Sorry about that. She's always abrupt and a tad abrasive," Janna had a flare for understatement. "I've never seen her _that _bad. I wonder if she Saw something?"

The capital letter was obvious. "Althenea's a Seer?" Tara wanted to close her eyes in pain. She should never have come to this party.

* * *

"Hey! There you are! I thought I told you to stay where you were and I'd get a doctor." Faith wondered if Willow realized that she was sprinting across the room again – after she'd sworn to Faith and Buffy she would walk everywhere at a sedate pace after her latest accident.

For a genius, Willow could be pretty stupid. If the woman had actually been hurt, she'd have died on the dance floor. They'd been running all over the clubhouse for the last hour. Not to mention one of the Watchers or Slayers would have noticed a woman bleeding and broken on the ground at some point. After all, Willow had indicated she'd run into the woman near the buffet table. Plenty of Slayers making return trips for more food all night long. One of them would have looked up from their plate to see Willow's victim.

"I tried to tell you I was fine," the woman protested. "But you ran off so fast, I don't think you heard me."

"I can't believe you met Tara before and didn't tell me." Xander, who'd been standing behind Tara and hovering over her, shook a finger at Willow. "Bad Willow. What kind of friend are you? Here I am, going on and on about you, telling Tara you're my best bud and this super powerful witch. And you know what, Will? She already knows you."

He crossed his arms and attempted to glare at Willow. Xander failed miserably.

"I'm thinking Red didn't stay long enough to give her name," Faith commented. "More like a hit and run than a meet and greet."

"Faith!" Willow hissed. She shot a desperate glance at Janna and immediately winced.

Crap. Faith hadn't meant to throw Willow under the bus. Cursing her stupidity, Faith decided one more screw up couldn't make tomorrow's punishment any worse than it already was. She was built for it; Willow wasn't. And she owed Willow for helping her almost pass last week's math test.

"Tara looks pretty good for a victim of the Willow Train. From the way you were talking, Red, I thought she'd be sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood." She gave Tara a slow once over. "Blondie looks fine to me." That should get everyone's attention.

"Excuse me?" Tara snapped. She raised her chin and met Faith's eyes.

Faith swallowed. Maybe she'd made a strategic error. Tara didn't look like much in the Domme department; now that she was pissed, though, her eyes resembled blue fire. Faith had faced down tougher Dominants, however. And this time, she was acting out for a good cause. She continued to stare insolently at Tara. "Think you heard me just fine, Blondie."

"Faith!" Janna, Willow, and Buffy said at the same time.

Ignoring the multi-voiced rebuke, Faith waited to see what else Tara would do.

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Whether I heard you or not isn't really the point, is it, Faith?"

No. Tara was right. It wasn't the point. Getting a reaction – and keeping the focus away from Willow – _was. _With studied arrogance, Faith raised one hand to cover a fake yawn. The gap separating her from Tara shrunk by a couple of feet as Tara stepped forward. Faith enjoyed the blush tinting Tara's cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell as anger caused her to breathe faster.

Unfortunately, Faith had forgotten she and Tara weren't alone. This wasn't a bar. Faith wasn't testing the woman's Dominance as a prospective partner for the night. More importantly, Janna and Buffy didn't wait for Tara to put Faith in her place.

A callused hand gripped the back of Faith's neck. It pushed at the same time a foot slammed into the back of her knees.

Faith hit the ground hard, and Buffy held her there.

"Tara, I apologize for Faith's behavior; I can't imagine why Giles thought she was well-trained enough to attend the Social." The words burned Faith like acid, and she struggled uselessly against Buffy.

"It's f-fine," Tara whispered. Since Faith hadn't dropped her eyes when Buffy shoved her to the floor, she watched as Tara appeared to shrink into herself. Her head dipped and her hair hid her expression. "I sh-shouldn't…" Tara cleared her throat. When she resumed speaking, the words were slower and forcibly distinct. "It was nice meeting you, Janna. I should find my friends and go."

Tara was leaving? Faith shifted uneasily against Buffy's grip. That wasn't what Faith had wanted. She'd simply wanted to deflect Janna's attention away from Willow for a few minutes.

"Don't go, Tara. Please." Xander turned his puppy dog eyes on Tara. Faith normally thought his act was pathetic. Right now, she held her breath and hoped it would work.

A tiny half-smile rewarded his efforts. "Don't overuse use the eyes, sweetie. You'll need them for something important one day." Tara straightened a little, as if regaining some of her composure. "I'll stay for a little while because you asked so nicely."

Xander beamed, and Faith scowled. Why did Dominants turn to mush over that cute, puppy dog shit? Her only consolation was that Buffy hadn't enjoyed Xander's show, either. The hand holding her had tightened until Faith knew she'd have bruises, and Buffy was board-stiff behind her.

"Now that's settled," Janna turned to Willow. "I'd like to hear more about the Willow Train. Because it sounds like you forgot our rules, _drag__ă_." Faith's distraction hadn't worked. She wasn't letting Willow off the hook.

Rules. It always came down to rules. Faith tuned out the rest of Janna's lecture. There were too damned many rules, especially now that Faith had been Called. She'd been mostly rule-free in Boston until then. Her mother hadn't paid attention to what Faith did. And none of her mother's "boyfriends" had, either, as long as Faith hadn't fought too hard when they'd snuck into her room at night.

Faith's hands scrubbed up and down her arms absently. It had been a small price to pay for relative freedom during the day. It was all different now. Faith's head dropped until her chin nearly rested on her chest. She couldn't do anything right anymore.

Diana had preached constantly about the way Faith acted. Shifting again, Faith hurriedly locked those memories away. One trip down memory lane tonight was enough.

"…think you will stay closer to me for the rest of this evening." Faith returned to the conversation as Janna made her announcement and clipped a leash to Willow's collar. "This way, I get to enjoy your beauty…" Faith snorted softly as Willow grinned and wiggled at the praise. "And our guests will be able to safely enjoy the evening."

"I feel safer already," Tara said. Her voice was so soft, barely above a whisper. Faith tilted her head in an effort to hear better. "Now, Xander, I think you said something about introducing me to your best friend? I think I'd like to meet her while _not _lying prostrate on the floor."


	4. Chapter 4

Glancing at her watch, Tara winced. She was late. Not a good way to impress Althenea. She knocked on the front door to the Slayer House and waited. The House appeared normal. A wide covered porch stretched along the front of the building, and the yard was well maintained. The three-foot high white picket fence matched several other fences on the block.

The door opened, and Tara turned away from examining the yard. "Ellie! Good morning." Some of Tara's unease disappeared at Ellie's familiar face.

"Hey." Ellie's smile seemed forced. Her lips moved while her eyes remained dark with some unnamed emotion. "I'm glad you came by, Tara. Only…now really isn't a good time for a visit."

It didn't take a genius to realize something was wrong. Tara peered intently at Ellie. The other girl wasn't hurt. At least, not that Tara could see. "Ellie? Did something happen? Is someone hurt?" Everyone knew how dangerous Slaying was.

"No. Nothing like that," Ellie assured her. "What can I do for you this morning?" She didn't invite Tara inside. Whatever had happened, it was clear Ellie didn't want Tara inside the House.

Unfortunately, Tara wasn't there to simply say hello. "I'm here to see Althenea. She arranged the meeting last night."

"Oh. Um, OK." Ellie stepped back and held the door open.

The foyer was spotless. Gleaming hardwood floors contrasted with blue-painted walls. A staircase stretched up two more floors, a blue runner softening the continued wood theme. It was not at all the dark English gentlemen's club decorations Tara had half expected. The airy, light space didn't disguise the absolute lack of noise, however. Not even the UC-Sunnydale library early on a Sunday morning was this silent.

Ellie closed the door and gestured to an archway on the right. "Althenea's finishing breakfast on the patio. I'll show you the way." Her voice wasn't loud enough to be classified as a normal speaking voice; nor was it soft enough to be called a whisper. Yet it still managed to sound too loud.

Rather than reply verbally, Tara nodded and followed Ellie into a comfortable living room. Jennifer occupied one corner of a leather couch. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Raquel who huddled in her lap. Willow paced back and forth across the length of the room at a speed reminiscent of her mad dash across convention room the previous night.

Was meeting with Althenea really worth interrupting whatever was happening in the House?

Not one of the young women glanced up as Tara and Ellie walked through the room and down a narrow hallway. Several doorways lined the hall but Ellie continued to the far end and a pair of French doors. The doors led outside into a huge backyard, complete with a flagstone patio. Sunlight sparkled off a crystal-clear pool and hot tub on one side, and birds chirped in a stand of trees to the other.

Althenea sat at a shaded table with the remains of breakfast. When Ellie disappeared back into the house, Tara gathered her courage and strode across the patio. "Good morning," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster.

"Please join me." Althenea's manners hadn't improved with sleep. She regarded Tara sternly as she dragged the surprisingly heavy wrought iron chair from beneath the table and sat down. "I do not have much time, and there is much for us to discuss. Therefore, I will dispense with the pleasantries."

She hadn't already? Tara wondered.

"I am a Seer. When we met at the Social, I had a series of visions," Althenea announced.

Tara expected her to follow up with the details of what she'd Seen. Althenea fell silent, though. Refusing to fall into what she suspected was a carefully constructed trap, Tara turned her attention to a squirrel on a nearby branch. The squirrel intently studied a bird feeder hanging a few feet away. Tail held high, it sidled closer. One step. Stop. Three quick steps. Stop. With a final mad dash, it climbed onto the feeder and stuffed handfuls of nuts and seed into its mouth.

"You do not want to be a Dominant," Althenea said.

This was important enough for a vision? It required a _Seer_?Tara's left hand dropped below the edge of the table and gripped the fabric of her skirt tightly. "Why w-would you say that?"

"Don't trifle with me, child!" With surprising speed, Althenea reached across the table and gripped Tara's right hand. "You have power; power you hide. And your spirit is fractured. Cracked so deeply and deftly that it is almost broken."

If Tara had thought her legs would hold her up, she would have run from the patio and probably all the way out of Sunnydale. Althenea's words weren't shocking. Tara _knew _they were, in fact, true. That didn't mean she was ready to confront and overcome her issues.

"You do not hide because it is your choice. You hide because you are afraid." Althenea's grip was painful, yet Tara didn't pull away. She was frozen in place like a bug pinned in a display case. "Fear can be a great motivator. It can push you forward to avoid whatever darkness chases. Or it can send you cowering into a corner so dark and deep you can never escape."

Tara really wished there was a corner nearby. She'd willingly cower there until Althenea went away. Since that wasn't an option, Tara pulled her shoulders back and took a deep, calming breath. "I don't think this is any of your business."

A rusty chuckle emanated from Althenea. "You are not the first to say that. If your fears affected only your future, I would agree."

"Wh-what do you mean?" What had Althenea Seen? Couldn't she just get to the point? Tara knew few people in Sunnydale. Or she had until last night. She deliberately kept to herself so that friends wouldn't become leverage if her father found her. "Maxie and Trish. Are they safe?" Goddess, she'd never forgive herself…

"I will not tell you what the Goddess showed me. To share that Gift might influence your choices." Althenea released Tara's hand and patted it gently. "Your choices are your own, Tara. I merely give you food for thought. Events will soon challenge the comfortable place you have made for yourself. Lives depend on your decisions."

The sunlight slipping through the shadows did little to warm Tara. She shivered, cold all the way to her soul. "What else will you tell me?"

"Only that your past continues to shape you, child. And there are others who suffer as you do." For the first time, Althenea sounded approving of Tara. "Your goodness shines like a beacon. Trust your heart. It will never lead you astray. And do not be afraid to let others in. The world has its share of monsters, yet there are plenty of heroes, too. I believe you will be one of them."

Tara didn't know how to respond. Althenea saw her as a hero. A hero who could destroy lives with the wrong decision.

While Tara considered that, Althenea stood. "It is time for me to leave. I will instruct one of the girls to escort you home whenever you wish."

* * *

Sitting on her bed, back pressed tightly to the headboard, Faith heard the Retrieval Team coming for her. More than one pair of boots and the clink of chains. Her stomach threatened to revolt and her eyes burned. The sunny day outside, the freedom it represented, had never been so tempting.

A sharp knock interrupted called her back to reality. Ignoring the siren song of freedom, she walked shakily to the door and opened it.

"Slayer Lehane, your presence is required in the Punishment Room." The Retrieval Team member was the same one who'd dragged Faith from the bar last night. However, his expression held no obvious enjoyment of his task. "Please extend your wrists and submit to the judgment of the Council."

Giles, or more likely Quentin, hadn't been sure of Faith's submission. Four other uniformed goons stood at the ready in the narrow hallway. Faith wanted to provide them a reason for being there, but her arms and legs felt too leaden to fight. Instead, she raised her hands and held them (mostly) steady as the lead officer fastened a cuffs to her wrists. With quick, economical movements he attached a short length of chain to the D-rings on each cuff, binding her hands close together.

Faith's unsteady footsteps were in clear counterpoint to the sharp, rhythmic steps of her escort. There was no one else in the hallway. Not a single head emerged from an office or bedroom. No one witnessed Faith's march to her doom. The trip from her second-floor bedroom to the basement that seemed to last hours yet ended in seconds.

Janna stood in the small Punishment Room, and Faith halted just over the threshold. No. They couldn't use Janna. Why weren't they using a local Dominant like the other times? Someone impartial, someone Faith wouldn't have to see every day?

The nightmare continued as Janna read from the official Council decision document in her hand. Her voice became so much static. Faith couldn't follow the list of her offences. She was sure it was a long list. Giles had been sweeping things under the rug for a while. All of that would have come out once last night's trip to the bar got to the full Council. The static grew louder as Janna set a paddle drilled with two rows of holes and a thin, varnished cane on the table next to the spanking bench.

Dropping her pants and underwear and being fastened over the bench brought Faith out of the fog. She tugged on the stocks fastened around her neck and wrists. Pulled at the cuffs on her ankles and the wide strap wrapped around her waist. She was completely bound to the leather-padded bench. Yanking and attempting to wiggle free was futile. The bench had been spelled to hold against even a Slayer's strength. Panting in fear, Faith watched the curtain in front of her face slide back. The mirrored glass hid the identities of the required witnesses in the Audience Room but clearly reflected Faith's white, strained expression.

No, damn it. Faith wasn't going to let them see her fear or her pain.

Janna immediately tested Faith's resolve. The paddle landed with a solid crack in the tender crease where Faith's thighs met her ass. The burn was immediate, and as Janna waited to deliver the next blow, Faith felt the ache settle deep into her muscles. Dropping her head or hiding her face was impossible thanks to the design of the bench. Witnesses had to be able to see her expression; although the rest of her body was thankfully shielded from view. Faith clenched her jaw as the pain increased with each successive blow. She didn't bother to count. If the number climbed too high, it would only cause her to panic more.

Despite her best intention, Faith yanked harder and harder against the cuffs as the paddling continued. Tears streaked her face. The sight of them in the reflective glass infuriated Faith. She closed her eyes, the one small rebellion she could manage, and tightened her muscles against the pain. When this was over, she was out of here. She was leaving Sunnydale. The Council could kiss her battered ass because Faith was done dancing to their tune.

Faith's frantic breaths were loud in the small room when Janna paused to set the paddle down and picked up the cane. Its distinctive whistle split the air a heartbeat before Faith's choked off scream.

Janna knew what she was doing. Faith felt twin surges of pain with each strike of the cane, one immediately on impact and the next a few seconds later just before Janna finally lifted the polished yew rod from her ass.

Any hope Faith had of remaining stoic died. She lived and breathed nothing but agony.

The Retrieval Team had to lift Faith from the spanking bench when the punishment session ended. The officer in charge actually redressed her, and Faith couldn't muster the strength to shove his hands away or move out of his reach. Dangling in the grip of two other men, Faith faced Janna.

"The decreed punishment has concluded in front of witnesses. Each has signed a statement validating the required correction was administered. This information will be placed in your Council file, Faith." Janna's remote expression thawed. "It's over." She approached and gently pushed Faith's sweaty, tangled hair away from her face. "Please let us help you, _feti__ţă. _We don't like to see you hurting like this."

Her advice and her touch weren't welcome. Faith managed to jerk her head away. "Don't fucking touch me," she snarled.

"We aren't the enemy, Faith," Janna said with apparent sincerity. However, with a weary nod, she stepped away. "Take her back to her room. I'll send one of the medical staff to meet you."

* * *

The birdsong was beautiful. Tara listened to the cheerful sound for a long time before standing. Althenea had, as she stated, given Tara many things to think about. The Slayer House wasn't the place to do that. Not in any productive way. Tara needed to be home, even if home was a cramped college dorm room.

Reentering the house, Tara started down the hall. However, before she went more than a few feet, one of the doors opened. A uniformed man stepped into the hallway. A second later, two more men carried Faith, who dangled between them with her arms over their shoulders. The Slayer looked terrible. Pale, eyes swollen with tears, face lined with pain. Her feet tried to find purchase on the floor but more often than not they simply dragged along the wooden boards.

As Tara watched, more uniform men emerged. Then a flood of others, including Buffy, Giles, and Janna. Tara didn't recognize the rest of the group. All of them appeared strained and somber.

One of the women glanced up and spotted Tara. Her face tightened nearly imperceptibly for an instant before she veered in Tara's direction. Giles trail a step behind. "You must be Tara," the woman announced in a clipped British accent. "Ru mentioned meeting you at the Social." Tara didn't realize she meant Giles until the woman reached back and stroked a finger over his collar.

"Lady Lydia." Tara held out her hand. Lydia's grip was firm yet quick.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." That was doubtful given the scene Tara had just witnessed. Lydia was only being polite.

Tara did her best to equal Lydia's manners. "I hope you weren't too unhappy with Mr. Giles' rescue of me last night." Tara hid her unease and desire to leave the House as best she could. "He was a true gentleman."

One of Lydia's eyebrows cocked and she turned her head to peer at Giles. "Really? Have you finally turned over a new leaf, Ru?"

There were lines of strain bracketing Giles' mouth, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. All the life and energy he'd shown the previous evening was absent. "I only sought to follow your edict, my Lady, and placed the specter of my past away." His head dipped slightly.

The past was a common theme today. Tara eyed Giles closely. Had Althenea told him what she'd seen last night? He didn't meet her eyes; in fact, he and Lydia were in some sort of stare down. Tara's need to flee the house grew.

For once, her luck was good. "Forgive us, Tara." Lydia pulled her focus from Giles for a moment. "There has been a situation requiring our attention, and I'm afraid we are not able to be proper hosts this morning. Would you be terribly offended if Ru and I left you to wrap up some final details?"

Absolutely not. Tara shook her head and murmured, "No, I understand. Althenea arranged for one of the Slayers to escort me back to campus." Not that she had any plans to actually _use _an escort. It was broad daylight and Tara could do some strategizing during the walk.

"Thank you." Lydia took Giles' hand and they ducked back through the same doorway as before.


	5. Chapter 5

Tara wasted no more time. She hurried back to the living room and found Buffy staring out of the large bay window. The rest of the Slayers were missing. Rationalizing that Buffy appeared preoccupied and not ready to act as an escort (that she didn't need), Tara slipped past and headed for the door.

"Running away?" Buffy's question halted Tara's escape.

"N-not really." Tara glanced at Buffy and then the door. "But, now that you mention it..." She let the words trail off hopefully.

In three quick strides, Buffy joined Tara in the foyer. "If there's any day to run, today would be the day." She shoved the door open and looked expectantly at Tara. "I'll walk you back. The rest of the crew is either on the way to the airport or wishing they were. The sunshine and faux fresh air will do me good."

"I really can walk back on my own." Joining Buffy on the patio, Tara took a deep breath. Buffy had been correct. The fresh air helped. She could feel the tension from inside the house fade slightly.

"It's OK. I don't mind. Besides, I understand Althenea promised you a Slayer escort." Buffy hopped off the porch with far more energy than Tara could ever hope to muster. "It gives us a chance to talk - which we didn't do last night. I've heard tons and tons of things about you from Willow - and a few from Janna and Giles. And if you've got Willow all excited... Well, as her best friend, it's in my best interest to know everything, too."

Best friends. "Janna doesn't mind? You and Willow, I mean." Living in the back of beyond hadn't given Tara a lot of exposure to normal relationships. Trish and Maxie were the exception.

"Nope. Will and I go way back." Buffy laughed. "Way back three years. Will and Xander go all the way back to Kindergarten. They're tight. Ask one of them about the Crayon Incident. They were the first friends I made in Sunnydale after Mom, Dad, and I moved here from LA. Janna understands that. I'm no threat. As a Domme anyway. It might be a toss-up in a fight." She shadow boxed for a second. "As long as I got in a couple good punches before the magic started flying, I'd come out on top."

Tara shook her head. "Not if Janna has personal shields. You'd bounce right off or get the shock of your life." As soon as the words were out, Tara wanted them back. Or did she? Damn Althenea and her vision. Until this morning, Tara had been happy...well, content to dabble at the edges of the mystical world.

"Really?" Buffy's shock was surprising since she spent so much time with Willow.

"It takes a lot of personal energy." Or a nearby ley line. Tara didn't go into too much detail. "What's it like, being a Slayer? All I know is from those classes..."

Buffy pulled a comical face. "I think they should rename them from Basic Slayer class to All the Really Boring Parts of Being a Slayer class. That whole day on the History of Slayers? Who cares? Everyone just wants to know what demons and vampires look like and how we kill them."

"So Slayers aren't big on their history, huh?" Tara enjoyed the way Buffy spun and regarded her with hands on her hips.

"That wasn't nice," Buffy pointed out. "Embarrassingly accurate, though. At least for most of us. Giles is always holding up the few Slayer Scholars, as he calls them, as examples of what Faith and I should be." A little of Buffy's exuberance faded when she mentioned Faith.

Tara didn't press for information. She didn't need to after having seen Faith at the Slayer House. Someone had punished her with a heavy hand. She recognized the signs.

_"I told you no magic!" Her father's voice preceded the sound of flesh meeting flesh._

Tara closed her eyes and scooted farther under the bed. Her hiding place wouldn't be good enough to keep him from finding her later. And it didn't block the sights or sounds as he dragged her mother to the chain station at the end of the attic. The first crack of the whip tore an involuntary whimper from Tara that was drowned by her mother's shrill scream of pain.

"Where are you from? I know you didn't go to Hellmouth High with the rest of us." Buffy thankfully hadn't noticed Tara's distraction - or the sudden cold sweat that slicked her skin.

She'd lived and studied in Hell, not the Hellmouth, Tara thought. Out loud, she stuttered, "My fa-family had a farm in th-the count-try." She deliberately didn't say where the farm was located. "Sunnydale was the b-big city." Before Buffy could ask more about her past, Tara turned the conversational table. "What was it like to grow up on a Hellmouth?"

"Lucky for me, I don't know. I grew up in LA, remember? Movie stars and way better shopping." They'd reached the edge of campus, and Buffy took the scenic route. The well-worn footpath wasn't officially maintained by the UC-Sunnydale grounds crew. However, it was quiet, and private under the sheltering trees; the respite helped Tara pull herself together a little as Buffy explained. "Apparently the Slayers Council has a faulty early warning system. Every once in a while, a Potential Slayer slips through cracks in the identification spell."

There was a story there. Tara watched Buffy's expression grow pensive. "From normal to Superhero in one big step?"

"You can't imagine." Buffy held out her arms and glided along like a skater. "One minute I'm a budding juvenile delinquent with fantasies of the Ice Capades. The next? I'm burning down the school gym to kill a bunch of vampires. I spent a whole two days in the LA Slayer Compound - while they convinced the cops I wasn't a pyromaniac - before they reassigned me here."

"So I moved from the sticks to the big city, and you moved from the big city to the back of beyond," Tara summed up as they approached the open-air dining area for the Student Union. "This is my stop. Am I imagining it? Or have there been way too many train references in the past twenty-four hours?"

"Yes, but I'd like to point out that the Buffy Train offers First Class Comfort and customer service. The Willow Train is only for those wishing to get from Spot A to Spot B in the fastest possible time." Buffy shrugged. "Your choice. Comfort or speed. Apparently you can't have both."

She met Tara's eyes and they both laughed. "Thanks for the company, Buffy. It was nice." It was rare for Tara to feel so comfortable talking with anyone. "If you even need a passenger in the First Class cabin, give me a call. I'm in the university phone book."

"I will; although, I think you'll be spending more time at the Slayer House than you might want. Will and Janna can't wait to add another witch to the team, and Giles doesn't get that British and stuffy unless he wants to impress someone." With a wave goodbye, Buffy jogged off.

"Who was the cute guy at the party?" Maxie asked the second Tara opened her dorm room door. She and Trish pushed their way inside while Tara stood dumbly holding the door. "For someone who didn't want to find a sub, you move fast, girl."

Absently closing the door behind them, Tara wondered how to politely usher her friends back into the hallway. She didn't have time to talk. There was packing to do. Packing. Goddess. Boxes and bags littered the floor and bed. The closet was empty of her few clothes. It wouldn't take...

"Hey, are you moving to another room? Did the Nazis over at Housing decide they couldn't afford to let you keep the single room?" Trish moved a box from the bed to the floor and sat in its place. "You should tell them to shove their roommate assignment form and move in with us. We've got more than enough room."

The idea was so laughable that Tara forgot she needed Trish and Maxie to leave. "And the noise from your "extracurricular" activities? Unless you exaggerate about Maxie's vocal range, I'm better off here."

Trish sighed and threw up her hands. "You could learn so much from us. Japanese bondage techniques, basic whip care. I was thinking about installing a target in the backyard. We could practice using a single tail together. Maxie said if I can slice through a single sheet of newspaper without marking the other sheets, she'd let me use one the next time we went to her brother's Halloween party. He's got a full dungeon in his basement."

"I'll never use a whip." Tara's vehement denial cut through the room. She was losing control, saying too much. _Feeling_ too much. Needing a distraction, and a way to avoid Trish' concerned gaze, Tara packed the contents of her student desk into an empty box with painstaking care.

"OK. What about a flogger? Less chance of putting an eye out - yours or the sub's - and not so Uber Dominant." Trish wasn't teasing anymore despite the lighthearted phrasing. Tara had seen her do this in a debate once. Trish would poke and prod, trying one form of impact play after another until Tara either broke and told her the truth or she ran from the room in tears like Trish's debate opponent.

Before answering, Tara closed the box and taped it shut. No need to have pens and pencils rolling around if she happened to drop the box. "I don't ever want to damage a sub, Trish. Not by design or by accident. Whips, floggers, canes... They can do permanent harm." Hopefully that would be enough and Trish would drop the entire line of questioning. Tara didn't want to admit she had no intention of ever Dominating a sub at all.

"You never told us about the sub at the party." Maxie and Trish were working in tandem. Their own irritating version of Good Cop, Bad Cop.

"His name was Xander," Tara offered calmly. Two could play this game. If Trish and Maxie wanted information, she'd provide it. At her own pace and comfort level. While she finished packing.

She could almost hear Trish growl. Frustration was rife when Trish asked, "And?"

"And he was a very nice young man." Finishing another box, she finally turned to her friends. "What about you two? I lost sight of you almost as soon as we went inside. Did you meet some nice Slayers?" No way would Trish go to a party dedicated beautiful, athletic women and not gravitate toward them.

"Oh, you wouldn't _believe _it, Tara." Maxie was a little less adept than Trish at spotting Tara's diversion. While Trish gave Tara an evil look, Maxie answered the question. "Wow. They were sooo hot." She fanned herself dramatically. "If I wasn't already bonded to the most beautiful woman on the planet, I would have thrown myself on my knees and begged one or all of them to collar me."

Her compliment drew Trish's attention away from Tara. "Mmm, and that's why I love you, little girl. You have such a way with words." One of Trish's hands tangled in Maxie's collar and pulled her in for a long, lazy kiss.

It was such a normal sight that Tara didn't bat an eyelash. She used the time to tape up and move several more boxes against the wall. In Sunnydale less than a year and she'd already collected so many things. She'd been smarter when she'd first run away. Her motto then had been to travel light and to never get attached to anything and anyone.

Now she was well and truly attached.

Did she really want to leave? Tara had been happy in Sunnydale. Trish and Maxie had become her family. And now Janna and Willow offered an opportunity to study magic with people who not only believed in it, they _lived _it.

Oh, Goddess. Tara didn't want to leave.

Tara absorbed the thought. If she wasn't going to leave, what _was _she going to do? Althenea's comments came back in a ghostly echo, _"Trust your heart. It will never lead you astray. And do not be afraid to let others in."_

Letting people in… Could she do that after all this time? After all the running?

Turning back to Maxie and Trish – who were thankfully still fully clothed and back to simple petting – Tara knew she already had. "How about you save the floor show for another time?"

Trish shot her a smirk. "If you had a sub of your very own, you would _know _how mean you're being to me." She kissed Maxie one more time and returned her to the floor. Maxie immediately resumed kneeling but leaned heavily into Trish's legs. "So what's really going on, Tar? You seem…different. Afraid."

Trish didn't know the half of it. Taking a seat on the desk chair, Tara took the first step to following Althenea's advice. "I didn't move to Sunnydale because I got a great scholarship offer." In fact, it barely covered her tuition. "I was running away from my family."

Wonder of wonders, Trish and Maxie remained quiet as Tara paused to gather her scattered thoughts and emotions. "It's why I never go home or get any phone calls or mail." Trish had often commented on the lack. "They don't know where I am, and I want to keep it that way."

"But you're packing now." Trish was always so quick to put the evidence together.

"Yes. Not for that reason, though." Not really. Tara sighed and prayed Althenea knew what she was doing. "I got some disturbing news this morning, and, well… I was basically about to run away again."

Maxie was the first to respond. She shot off the floor and stalked across the room. "We won't let you run, Tara. Trish has cuffs and rope in her backpack."

"That's…That's good to know," Tara said faintly. A tiny grin snuck out. "I'll ask why she has all the goodies later." And tease Trish unmercifully about her toy bag. "Can we move past me packing up and leaving? I'm staying. I've decided to stay. You two…You convinced me to stay - without the bondage." Taking Maxie's hand and meeting Trish's concerned gaze, she whispered, "There are a lot of things I need to tell you. And I need your help."

"Whatever you need, Tara, you've got it," Trish said without hesitation while Maxie wrapped Tara in a fierce hug. "Do you want to talk here? Or would our place be better? I was serious about you moving in with us. Maxie and I have been talking about it since the semester started."

Tears burned Tara's eyes. They hadn't even heard her story, yet they were willing to open their home. "We can talk here. After-afterward you can decide if you're still willing to help."

With an outraged sniff, Maxie retreated back toward the bed. Rather than kneel, though, she presented Trish with a truly pathetic expression. Trish rearranged her position until she rested against the headboard and pulled Maxie onto her lap. "No matter what you tell us, we're not changing our mind, Tar."

With a tight nod, Tara opened the door to her past. It was a tired, sometimes trite story. "My parent's bond was toxic," she said, using the current slang indicating a bond that just didn't work. "My father didn't want a submissive. He didn't want someone who complemented his dynamic. He wanted a mindless doll who obeyed his every whim. He wanted to control everything, every thought, every emotion, every action." It had been smothering. Absolutely terrifying and smothering. "He wouldn't let us leave the farm for anything. Mama had to home school me and my brother, using things that my father approved." It had been illegal but who was going to report it? Not Tara or her mother. And Donny had been a chip off the Maclay block, a clone of their father.

She skirted the worst of her childhood. Trish and Maxie didn't need to know how bad it had really been. "He hated anything that didn't fit into his tiny little box of expectations. And a sub who was a witch... It embarrassed him. Challenged him. I think that's why he was always so overly strict with Mama." So quick to use a whip for the smallest infraction. There had been a cage in the living room. Her mother had spent hours huddled inside as punishment. Intellectually, Tara understood that some submissives would have been happy with that role. Her mother had not been one of them. "By the time I was born, Mama had started to rebel. She wanted out, but she didn't have a way to leave. We lived miles from the nearest neighbor and she didn't have any family."

"Is your mother still there?" Tara had never seen Trish angry. Even when Maxie broke one of their rules, she was calm and level headed. Right now, though, she spoke between clenched teeth. "Did she stay with that bastard?"

Tara lost her fight with tears. "No. Sh-She died l-last year." And three days later, Tara had snuck away in the middle of the night.

"Oh, honey." Trish was holding Maxie so tightly it was a wonder the sub could breathe. "I'm so sorry. How did you manage to find this tiny college?"

Swiping impatiently at her tears, Tara shrugged. "Mama found a way around the web nanny program my father had put on our computer, and she helped me apply to several colleges. UC-Sunnydale was the only one that offered me a scholarship." She'd financed the trip to California and most of her living expenses with money her mother had stolen (via computer) from her father's accounts over the last several years and then hidden in online banks.

"Just so you know, Tara, you didn't scare us off." Maxie looked as fierce as was humanly possible for a sub cuddled on the lap of her Dominant. "I should call my brothers," both of whom were Marines. "They'd be _more _than happy to talk with your father and explain how a real Dominant treats his submissive."

That wasn't what Tara wanted. Violence would only compound the horror, and she didn't believe her father would learn anything from it.

"Then how can we help, Tar? Believe me, we'll do anything," Trish promised. "A place to stay? It's not a choice any longer. We'll move you today. Money? Maxie and I have a little put away."

How could Tara have ever thought hiding away was the answer to her problems? Trish's support and Maxie's concern warmed her, chasing away some of the loneliness and sense of isolation. "Th-thank you. If you really don't mind a house guest..."

"We don't," Trish and Maxie answered in stereo.

"OK." Tara took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "I have one more favor to ask." If she was going to listen to Althenea's advice, she couldn't pick and choose which parts. It was all or nothing. "Someone told me recently I had to stop hiding who and what I am. You'd like her, Trish." That came out a tad wry. "She implied I had to find a submissive." Why else would Althenea warn Tara she had to stop being afraid to be a Dominant?

"Ooh. Can we meet this woman? I want to shake her hand." Trish grinned. "So will it be the hot guy at the party? 'Cause you still haven't shared the details."

"Not Xander," Tara said. "He's already bonded." She'd noticed his black leather cuff immediately. "And you can't meet Althenea. She offered drive-by advice and flew back to England this morning. She was very good at telling me I needed to grow up and stop hiding," she continued. "But I don't think she understood the real problem."

Trish arched an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"I have absolutely no idea how to actually _be _a Dominant. I need you to teach me, Trish," Tara answered.

Tara's past hadn't fazed Trish. The request did. "You mean like Dominance 101? But…Didn't you…"

Trish might have continued to verbally stumble except Maxie came to her rescue. "She was home schooled, you doofus. And I don't think her father would have approved of the usual curriculum of safe, sane, and consensual. Not to mention taking Aftercare and Proper Punishment from your parents would have been squicky."

Covering her mouth with a hand, Tara tried to hide her giggles. Maxie's tart comment might have been hilarious, but it wouldn't do to encourage the impolite delivery.

Trish regarded her sub with a narrow-eyed expression. "I don't beat you often enough, little girl."

"Nope." Smiling sunnily, Maxie bussed Trish on the nose. "We've been together too long for you to start now. The first rule of caring for your sub is consistency. Since you've never corrected me for speaking my mind, you must like it when I do."

With a huff, Trish grumbled, "Maybe we should renegotiate our contract, brat." Then she turned her attention back to Tara. "I'd be happy to help you learn. However, using Maxie and me as an example won't give you the broad picture of Dominance you need. Every dynamic is a little different. In some couples, what Maxie just said, how she said it, would have ended with her over my lap."

"Or trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with a gag stuffed in my mouth and a pair of nasty nipple clamps as an added bonus." Maxie peered over at Tara. "You have to figure out what you and your sub are comfortable with. What triggers the Uber Domme in you, and what sends your partner into subspace."

She'd known it wasn't going to be simple. Too bad Althenea's warning had included such a fantastic motivator: people dying. "Just help me learn the basics. I don't need to be an expert." After all, she still didn't expect to bond this late in life.

"Give me a couple of days to come up with a plan." Trish tipped Maxie off her lap and stood. "Right now I want to get you moved and settled in."

There were four emails in Tara's in-box, all of them ending with the same domain name. . The first was time stamped the morning following the Winter Social. Whoever redwitch was, she was very persistent and punctual. The final three emails had been spaced exactly six hours apart.

Well, Tara had been busy moving. She clicked on the most recent email, already mentally crafting her apology.

_Tara,_

_It's Willow again. Hey, I hope we didn't scare you off yesterday morning. It was bad timing. And Althenea is pretty scary when she's in Seer Mode. Janna and I really want you to give us a second chance. The Basic Magic classes – that's what I call them. The Council name is miles long and sounds like I'm reading a dictionary – are every day at six. Want to stop and check them out? Email and we can meet for lunch, too. I have Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons off at school. _

Tara checked the clock. If she didn't respond to this one, another email would probably appear shortly. The six-hour deadline was in forty minutes. Biting her lip, Tara wavered. Althenea's words had already spurred her to change so much in a short time. Moving, learning what it meant to be a good Dominant. Was she ready to openly practice magic?

Was this really about magic? Willow and Janna were witches, sure. They were also nice people. Tara had already committed to letting people into her life. Not to mention Buffy, Xander, Giles, Lydia, and Faith weren't witches. Magic wasn't the only thing to consider. Tara had to look at the _people_, too. Wondering why she'd even considered refusing Willow's invitation, Tara typed a swift response.

_Lunch today at the House? Will 12:30 work? I can bring sandwiches from the sandwich shop downtown._

By the time she'd cleared the rest of the older mail from her inbox, Willow had accepted the offer and left her lunch order. Tara did some mental calculations. She'd be able to finish the first chapter of the book Trish had loaned her, _The Loving Dominant_, before picking up lunch. Leaving the laptop running in case Willow changed her mind, Tara settled back on the couch and opened the book.

_There is often the misconception that the dynamic in a D/s relationship is driven or controlled by the Dominant. In reality, it is the submissive - or more correctly, the submissive's needs - which determine the actions of the Dominant within the dynamic._

Tara was so engrossed in the chapter that she had to run to pick up lunch and make it to the Slayer House on time. Panting, she knocked on the door. It sprang open. Willow's wide smile made it clear that things had returned to normal. "Hey, come on in. Janna and I are set up in the kitchen."

* * *

Faith heard voices in the kitchen and hesitated. She didn't want to play nice with anyone. Hunger warred with mood - and hunger won. She'd grab something quick (there were always leftovers in the refrigerator) and head to the patio. At least she could pretend to have some freedom there. The invisible prison bars were less noticeable anyway.

Head down, she barged into the large, open kitchen. All conversation stopped.

"Be out of your way in a minute," she mumbled in a last-minute, badly executed attempt to be polite.

"I'm so sorry, Faith." The voice was new, and Faith stopped in surprise. "I didn't know you would be here or I could have gotten you something."

Who was she? She'd been at the party the other night. Faith tried to remember...and then wished she hadn't. "Tara" The woman Willow had run down. The Dominant Faith had deliberately insulted. "No big. Plenty of food here." It was the only good thing about the Slayer House. "Like I said, I'll be outta the way soon."

Willow and Janna would have let her grab and run. Janna had been avoiding her since their special date in the basement yesterday. Tara didn't know the way things worked here. She stood up and pulled a knife from the block on the counter. "Absolutely not. My sandwich is big enough to share."

"And there are extra chips in the pantry, Faith. Let me get them for you." Janna was already striding toward the large food closet.

"Any other objections?" Tara had this funny half-smile, and Faith had to smile back. Although it was grudging. She didn't _feel _like smiling. "It's too cold? Too hot? You don't like sandwiches?"

The girl was a comedian. "Not real fond of meat. I'm a vegetarian," Faith lied with a completely straight face. She caught the slight widening of Tara's eyes before she giggled. In spite of herself, Faith enjoyed the sound.

"I'll pick the turkey and roast beef off. You'll be fine." Tara managed to get her laughter under control.

Ignoring the startled looks from Willow and Janna, Faith slowly lowered herself into the chair next to Tara. "Tell ya' what. Just for today, I'll eat meat. Don't want you to have to go to all the trouble to scrape it off."

"Deal." Tara shoved the bigger portion of the sandwich across the table to Faith.


	6. Chapter 6

Faith dug into the chips and sandwich. Tara was obviously new to the whole Slayer phenomenon. Half a sandwich? Not even several bags of chips would make that a meal. It was a nice gesture, though. The duo staring at her from across the table wouldn't have offered Faith a crumb. Hell, they hadn't even asked if Faith wanted anything when they'd arranged this lunch date.

Lunch date.

It was a perfect opportunity. One Faith _might _have resisted if she didn't owe Janna for yesterday. Her attempt at leaning casually back in the chair wasn't as smooth a maneuver as usual. Faith bit back a moan as the movement woke the remaining welts and bruises on her thighs and ass. The pain made it even easier for Faith to say, "Red, you lookin' to add another Lady? Three's better than two."

The conversation had never resumed after Faith joined the party. Any chance of it resurrecting disappeared after her remark. The silence grew glacial.

Hiding her smirk with a massive bite of sandwich, Faith watched Janna and Willow. Janna stared back with no expression. It was her normal response to anything inappropriate. Willow, though… Willow was worth the price of admission. Her face was already tomato red and closing in on brick red by the second. Faith had even managed to quell the usual babble. Willow's mouth opened and closed without sound until she resembled a bright red fish.

"I don't think Janna would share Willow," Tara murmured into the quiet room. "She growled at me earlier when I mentioned taking Willow on a tour of campus. Triads take extraordinarily sharing participants. It would never work, I'm afraid. Janna is simply too possessive for me."

"Huh?" Faith spun to face Tara, forgetting to move slowly. This time, there was no holding back the gasp of pain. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She wanted to hop up and grab for the throbbing areas. And if she'd been alone, Faith would have stripped out of the loose sweatpants she'd pulled on earlier.

While Faith gripped the edge of the table and breathed between gritted teeth, Willow shoved her chair away from the table. "What is wrong with you? You can't be nice to anyone, can you?"

"Willow." Janna didn't raise her voice; however, the snap in that single word was a clear warning. One that any submissive would understand. Faith shuddered at the raw command. It was too soon after Janna's role in her punishment. Even though she wasn't Willow and she didn't belong to Janna, a part of her responded.

The real target of Janna's ire was too far gone to see the danger she was in. "No, Janna! I'm tired of Faith. Of the way she treats everyone. I'm tired of you telling me I should try to be her friend. I don't feel sorry for you anymore, Faith. You _asked_ for what happened the other day."

Willow's tirade pushed Faith over the edge. She started to her feet. To hell with the way she hurt. She was going to make Willow regret saying she deserved the Council's punishment. Regret saying she was _tired _of Faith.

Janna got to Willow first. Her hand shot out, fingers tangling in the delicate leather collar Willow wore. "That is enough, _drag__ă__. _You embarrass me and yourself."

Willow's angry words halted; although, she continued to glare at Faith. Janna might be able to keep her quiet. That didn't mean she had changed Willow's mind about Faith.

Faith met Willow's eyes without a hint of a smirk. Whatever enjoyment she'd taken from scoring a verbal hit on the other girl had drained away the second Janna took Willow to task. In fact, as Janna shoved lunch trash out off the table and pushed Willow face down over the cleared surface, Faith wondered if her sandwich might make a return.

Her stomach clenched, and her face felt weird. Hot and cold at the same time. Faith watched numbly as Janna made quick work of Willow's jeans and underwear.

"Janna…_Doamn__ă__…_" Willow had finally realized Janna meant business. Her eyes went wide and then shot desperately back and forth from Faith to Tara. "Not here. Please. I'm sorry."

Faith wanted to tell Janna the same thing. She didn't want to be a witness. Teasing Willow was fun. This was not. Unfortunately, what she wanted didn't matter. "You chose our venue, little girl. You chose to act like a rude, hurtful brat in to Faith. And you shamed me in front of our guest Tara. It is only right that you should be punished in here, where they can see."

Faith had to get out of the kitchen. Now. But running out the door would look… Well, like she was running. She didn't want to let the others know how much Willow's coming punishment bothered her. No matter how much Willow's comments hurt, Faith took no pleasure in what was about to happen. She stayed frozen in place as the first slap of Janna's hand meeting Willow's ass filled the room.

As the spanking continued, Faith's skin twitched with each blow. Her eyes met Willow's through a haze of tears. Her tears? Or Willow's?

"Will you show me the rest of the house, Faith?" Tara's voice was tight, and she didn't give Faith even a second to fully understand the request. "Please." She gripped Faith's wrist, pulling her out of her chair and out of the kitchen. "Thank you," Tara whispered when they stood in the hallway.

For what? Faith hadn't done anything. Tara was running the show.

At least they weren't still there with Janna and Willow. Faith's mind settled on that. "Yeah. Sure thing." They continued to stand in the hall with the echoes of Willow's spanking following them. Faith looked at Tara closely for the first time. Lines of strain tightened the skin around her eyes and a thin film of sweat covered her face. She looked as bad as Faith felt. "Let's start up top with the offices." Far enough away that the spanking wouldn't reach even her enhanced hearing.

Faith's hand hovered over the small of Tara's back as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. It was quiet here. Giles was the only one who spent any time up here. Keeping their pace slow – and her eyes on Tara – Faith started the tour. "This is the top floor," she announced unnecessarily. "Nothing exciting like lingerie or housewares. Just offices."

Tara was visibly more relaxed now. Faith maintained her mindless patter as they wandered through the various offices. "Don't know why they call this the Conservatory," she told Tara when they entered the tiny, cramped space. Dark wood paneling and heavy furniture took up most of the room and only slivers of light made it past the curtains. "More like Giles' Dungeon."

"If he put on a smoking jacket and lit up a cigar, he'd look right at home." Tara glanced at Faith with a suddenly impish expression. "You so have to take a picture if he does. Lord Giles in his Manor."

Faith had no idea what a smoking jacket might be. However, she thought Tara was cute with her eyes dancing with laughter and the strain gone from her face. "I don't think Lydia would put up with Lord Giles."

"Lady Lydia, then, with her well-heeled pet," Tara announced.

"You got it, T. As soon as Giles plays dress up, I'll get your picture." Faith opened the next door. "This is Giles and Red's…I mean Willow's favorite room." She faltered over the name, automatically straining to hear if the punishment was over downstairs. "If she ain't accidentally turning someone into a rat, you can find her up here." Stepping aside, she let Tara wander inside the Library. Floor to ceiling shelves covered three walls, with a large window comprising the fourth wall. The room itself spanned half the third floor.

Tara walked around the room, examining the shelves. "This is amazing. Some of these texts are rare."

Great, another book lover. Resigned to a long wait, Faith gingerly sank into one of the overstuffed wing chairs near the window. It was the height of not-fun to watch Tara pull various books, scrolls, and miscellaneous stuff off each shelf.

After a few minutes, Tara appeared to realize Faith wasn't enjoying the Library, and she blushed. She ducked behind her hair; the same thing she'd done at the Social. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…You should have s-said…" The words ground to a halt and Tara took a slow breath. "I lost some Dominant points with that, didn't I?"

She was a funny sort of Dominant. Blushing and shy. "Nah," Faith assured her. Then, at Tara's raised eyebrow, she admitted, "Maybe a couple, but you can earn those back, no sweat. Everybody says I got an attitude problem. Feel free to tell me how I should be behavin'; it'll get ya' those points back with interest."

Tara reemerged from beneath her hair. "Nah," she said with such a poorly imitated Boston accent that Faith had to laugh. In a regular voice, she continued. "Come on. I'm done having raptures over the Library. What else can you show me?"

"Not much up here. Giles keeps his door locked, and he ain't here to show you his happy place. Got a room for sleeping if research drags on all night. And a room for meetings and shit. Second floor's all bedrooms and a couple more empty offices for visiting Watchers." Faith held the door for Tara and ushered her back to the staircase. "Only thing left is the gym."

"That's your happy place, I bet." Faith liked Tara's smile. It was slow, a little hesitant. As if Tara was considering if she wanted to share it. "Show me, please. It'll make us even for the way I acted in the Library."

Faith shrugged. "Your call, T." She led Tara down the stairs to the large, airy gym. Bright lights bounced off the mirror on one wall. Weapons hung neatly from hooks, and racks of free weights huddled in a corner. "Want me to walk around and pick shit up?"

Eyes narrowing, Tara murmured, "You're right. You do have an attitude problem." One finger poked Faith's arm. "And you're mean, too."

"Took ya' long enough to realize." Faith pasted on her fiercest scowl. "Run while you can."

"Oh, I don't run. It's too much like working out. Which I don't do, either." Tara poked Faith again and then sighed. "I suppose I should, though. The nightlife in Sunnydale isn't the friendliest."

Without thinking, Faith said, "I could get…" She bit the rest of the offer back. What the Hell was she doing? She wasn't staying in Sunnydale any longer than it took to find a way out. Tara could find someone else to set her up with a workout schedule and some basic self defense classes.

"You could get what, Faith?" Tara's gentleness, the way she gave Faith all of her attention when she spoke, suddenly rubbed Faith the wrong way.

"Nothing." Spinning on her heel, Faith fled from the gym to her room just down the hall.

* * *

Staring after Faith in shock, Tara hoped she hadn't done anything to offend her. Faith was so touchy and angry. With a sigh, she left the gym and returned to the first floor and the kitchen. The remains of lunch were gone. Janna perched on a stool at the island, working on her laptop.

Willow stood in the corner, hands laced behind her head with her well-spanked ass on display above her bunched jeans and underwear.

"Where's Faith?" Janna looked at Tara closely. Tara thought she might really have meant, "Are you OK? Did she hurt you?"

What had Faith done to make everyone distrust her? Although Faith was definitely on the confrontational side, she hadn't done anything to make Tara uncomfortable. In fact, there had been a few moments where she'd been downright funny. "She's in her room." Keeping her gaze averted from Willow, Tara took a seat at the table.

The tension from earlier was gone. Janna seemed a little more strained. Tired. She closed the laptop. "I should have mentioned that the Slayer House can be exciting, and not only because we fend off demon and vampire attacks." Raising her voice slightly, Janna said, "Willow has something she'd like to say to you, Tara."

No. Goddess, no.

"_Forgive me, Master, for not being ready when you arrived." Tara's mother knelt at her father's feet. More like cowered thanks to the flogging she'd received._

Movement jarred Tara out of the memory. Willow, redressed and sniffing back tears, dropped to her knees in front of her. "I'm really sorry, Tara. Faith can make me mad sometimes, but I shouldn't have lost my temper and ruined lunch." Her breath hitched in a sob as she raised her eyes and gazed imploringly at Tara.

"Thank you, Willow." Tara's throat was tight. Pushing through the constriction, she told Willow sincerely, "You're apology is accepted." Willow had paid for her thoughtless comments.

Willow's answering smile was so bright it rivaled the sun. She scrubbed a hand over her face, wiping away the fresh tears.

"That was a very pretty apology, _drag__ă__._" Janna held out her arms when Willow turned to look at her. A second later, she held Willow in a tight hug. "I'm proud of you." She brushed light kisses over Willow's hair, never releasing her hold.

The cold knot lingering in Tara's stomach melted. Her father had _never _been proud of her mother. He'd certainly never held her after a punishment, offering love and comfort. She waited while Janna and Willow cuddled.

"Where did you and Faith disappear to?" Janna finally asked. She released Willow and pointed to the floor. With a huff marred by a tiny grin, Willow dropped to her knees and leaned against the stool legs. Janna's hand absently combed through her tangled red hair.

"She gave me a tour of the house. I'm afraid I scared her with my love of books." Tara whispered the confession dramatically.

Willow giggled. "You'd scare anyone who's a Slayer. They're allergic to books and research. Buffy tries. Faith does, too. Sometimes. But once they get bored, you better watch out. They started sparring near Giles' Special Collection a few weeks ago and I thought he'd have a heart attack."

"Giles is always close to a coronary," Janna added irreverently. "Now, since Tara's seen the inside of the House, let's take her out to the grounds and show her _our _favorite place, _drag__ă__._" Janna slid off the stool and helped Willow to her feet. "The Magical Workroom is at the far end of the property in a specially-warded structure. Since we teach so many beginner classes… Well, the Council is too cheap to repair the main House for every magical accident we might have."

Tara took that to mean "accidents" happened often. "Ready when you are. It's been a few years since I've done anything more than simple rituals." Like the one she'd been finishing in the park the morning Janna claimed to have seen her. Tara hoped her blush didn't show too much, and she prayed to the Goddess that she'd been dressed by the time Willow and Janna had taken their shortcut for doughnuts.

She followed her hosts out to the patio where she'd spoken to Althenea. Faith was there, no longer in her room, glowering at the flowers in the planter boxes. Tara's footsteps lagged. Faith looked so miserable. So alone.

As if Faith sensed Tara's intent, she glanced up. A heartbeat later, she turned back to the terribly offending flowers. The dismissal was clear.

Tara trotted to catch up with Willow and Janna. If Faith wanted to be alone, Tara wouldn't force her to join them.


	7. Chapter 7

"How did your lunch thing go? Did you get to meet more hot Slayers?" Trish shrugged at Tara's reproving frown. "What? I'm bonded, not dead."

"And you are seriously trying to distract me," Tara said waspishly. It wasn't going to work. She wasn't going to somehow forget how insane Trish's latest idea was. The paddle in her hand was heavy and awkward. And the "sub" on the bed was plain disturbing.

Trish wouldn't back down, though. "You need to stop worrying about looking silly and swing that paddle, woman. I swear, if you don't, I'll put _you _over the bed and give a demonstration." She met Tara's glare with a raised eyebrow. "While you're punishing your sub, you can tell me about this afternoon."

"My sub is a pillow wrapped in duct tape to make it butt-shaped!" Swinging the paddle at the aforementioned pillow didn't take the edge off Tara's frustration or her embarrassment.

She'd finally found Trish's limits, though. No longer teasing, Trish pointed at Tara. "If you pulled that shit with a real submissive, I really would put you over this bed." Advancing on Tara, Trish yanked the paddle from her hand. "_This_ can damage a sub if _you _aren't paying attention. What if that pillow was Maxie? What would happen if I got mad and lashed out the way you did? What would it do to her?"

Tara took a step away and closed her eyes. She didn't have to imagine Maxie over the bed. She'd lived with a man who lashed out and didn't care. "I'm sorry." This was a bad idea. Maybe Althenea's vision had been wrong. Maybe Tara didn't have to confront her fear of Dominating someone.

"Tar, you can do this, I swear," Trish said encouragingly. She prodded Tara with the end of the paddle until she opened her eyes. "We all have to do this. It's a standard activity in Proper Punishment classes. We all giggled and blushed and felt like idiots, too. But when you're standing behind your real submissive, waiting to swing this paddle or a crop, you'll be glad you put up with a little embarrassment."

"You know I don't plan on finding a submissive, right?" Holding out her hand, Tara gave in. After all, she _had _asked Trish to help her learn to be a good Dominant.

"Fate can be a bitch. She rarely listens to what we want – or plan." Trish wandered across the room and sat down on a large ottoman. "So swing the paddle like you mean it and tell me about today."

Tara confronted the pillow with resolve. No, not the pillow. Her submissive. She'd never be able to do this correctly if she wasn't in the right headspace. It wasn't a pillow. It was…Willow, the way she'd been at lunch. Bared and bent over the table, waiting for Tara to punish her.

The paddle barely landed against "Willow" with a slight puffing sound, and Tara almost threw it onto the floor. No. Definitely no. She couldn't paddle Willow. She was too young. Too innocent. Too…something.

"Not bad. A little high, though. Aim for the lower portion of the pillow. It has more cushion and the risk of real, or bad, pain is less. If you want to add some extra power or sting, flick your wrist right before impact," Trish advised.

Not Willow. Tara repeated that and tried to imagine another submissive bent over in front of her. Xander was too sweet and goofy. Giles too old. Maxie belonged to Trish.

"Tar?" Trish asked. "You aren't getting cold feet again, are you?"

"No. Sorry." Tara rolled her shoulders and mentally guided Faith over the bed. Willow had been punished for her attitude and comments to Faith at lunch. Faith should have been punished as well. She'd actually instigated the verbal fight. The paddle landed with more resolve the next time Tara swung. She worked her way from left to right and back again.

Something still wasn't right, though. Faith had picked that fight with Willow. Why? She'd seemed so lost and alone when she let down her guard. Maybe there was a reason behind her actions. Tara's paddle strikes slowed and eased; she lightened the force and flicked her wrist the way Trish had mentioned. She didn't need to hurt Faith too much; she simply wanted to encourage her to come clean about her motivations.

"Nice, Tar. Those last few were really good. Right on target." Trish's voice brought Tara out of her mini-trance. "You need to do this every day for at least a few weeks until the motion is natural. Then just practice a couple times a week. How did it feel?"

"Good." Shockingly good and _right._ Panic tried to set in and was rebuffed by the warm glow of Domme space. If Tara felt like that after a few minutes paddling a pillow, what would it be like with an actual submissive? Her _own _submissive? She sat on the bed to hide the sudden weakness in her knees.

Trish joined her, playfully bumping their shoulders. "Good is better than bad. You didn't faint or scream. You seemed really comfortable at the end. I say this was a successful lesson. You ready for the next?"

"There's a next?" Tara managed to tease. "I'm not a real Domme now?"

"You've _been _a real Domme." Again, Trish surprised Tara with her serious response. "No one puts a marker on their left wrist without an inner need – and a talent – for Dominance. You hid from yours, with good reason. We're simply finding a way to wake your talents up again. So, are you ready to take the next step?"

Trish's faith in her ability settled something deep inside Tara. Calm washed through her, along with anticipation. "Yes."

"Good. Maxie and I are heading to a friend's place for dinner. I'll let them know you're joining us. It will be a perfect way for you to see how other dynamics work," Trish announced. She hopped up and held out a hand for Tara. "And don't think I didn't notice you avoided telling me about your lunch. I'll find a way to make you talk."

"Have you been out here all day?" Buffy breezed onto the patio, disturbing the uneasy doze Faith had finally managed to achieve. "Mom sent over homemade lasagna and garlic bread. Come inside and have dinner."

Faith's stomach thought that was a wonderful idea. Half a sandwich was an appetizer for a Slayer. Too bad Faith and her stomach weren't on the same page. "I'm good here."

Buffy sighed impatiently. "Look, Faith. We go through this every time the Council sentences you to a punishment session. You pout and glower. The session's over. Learn from it and move on."

"Move on?" Faith climbed out of the chair stiffly and crossed the few feet between them. "You got a plan for that, B? A way to get the fucking bruises to fade faster? To get the Council to let me do more than sit out here and watch grass grow?"

"I…I tried to get them to let you off with the caning." Buffy slumped against the planter box. "They wouldn't listen. I'm sorry. I did the best I could, but damn it, Faith! What…" Pressing her lips together, Buffy stopped talking.

It didn't matter. Faith knew what she'd been about to say. Faith pushed the Council's buttons because she wouldn't follow their stupid rules. She didn't hang around the House pretending to be a role model for the townies. She drank and smoked and didn't care who knew. Buffy, like Willow, thought Faith deserved what the Council dished out.

"If you don't want to eat, do you want to spar? I don't have to leave for patrol for another hour or so." Buffy had mastered her anger and was back to being Faith's best friend.

Faith didn't want or need a friend, best or otherwise. "I'm busy," she lied with a straight face. In her present condition, Buffy would wipe the mat with her even faster than normal.

"Come on, Faith. Please." Buffy reached out a hand and then let it drop when Faith stepped back. "Alright. Dinner's in the 'fridge. I'll be back after patrol to file my report with Giles. If you need anything…"

Buffy was seriously deluded. Faith would slit her own throat before she asked Buffy for more than the time of day. She remained stonily silent until Buffy stalked away. Faith waited a few minutes. She had to be sure.

The faint sound of the front door slamming closed was her trigger.

Re-entering the House, Faith hurried upstairs. She might not be able to leave tonight, but the time would come. And she'd be ready. Traveling light was a way of life. Faith carefully rolled up a single pair of jeans, a change of underwear and socks, and a T-shirt. The clothes went into the bottom of backpack. She added a couple of daggers and stakes.

Her "Get Out of Jail" package was complete. With one important exception. Faith needed money, and it wasn't going to be easy to steal any. Giles' office door had a magically-alarmed lock. When she'd first arrived in Sunnydale, Faith had searched the rest of the House. There wasn't even a dollar stashed in the cookie jar.

She'd have to deal with the lack of funds later. Worst-case scenario, she could roll someone on the way out of town. Her stomach growled, and this time Faith listened. She returned to the kitchen and shoved the large plate of lasagna into the microwave.

And that's when Faith heard the front door open and close. She stormed toward the foyer. "Jesus, B. Leave me the fuck alone. I don't need…"

"Hey! Not Buffy. Can you dial down the potential violence? I'm not built to take it." Xander lacked his usual comedic flair. In fact, he seemed ready to cry. "Buffy's not here?"

"You ain't got to ask me that. She's in your fucking head." Faith spun around with the intention of finally eating dinner. She didn't care about Xander and Buffy's bonding issues.

Unfortunately, Xander followed her to the kitchen. "Actually, I do," he muttered. "Ask you, I mean." He sounded absolutely miserable. "I think Buffy got Willow to show her how to block the link. I haven't been able to hear or feel her since the Social."

Shit. Faith hovered in the middle of the kitchen. Why was he telling her all this? Surely he didn't think she cared?

"It hurts so much, Faith. I can't sleep. I can't think. I don't understand." Xander didn't bother with a chair. He sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Has she said anything to you? Talked about me at all?"

"Ah, X-Man, come on. You know Buffy doesn't talk to me like that. You shoulda gone to Willow if you wanted information." The microwave chimed, but Faith moved toward Xander and not her dinner. She knew what it was like to be hurt. She sat down next to him and leaned back on her hands.

Buffy hadn't shown any signs of losing her bond when she'd been at the House earlier. "Are you sure she did it on purpose? What if something happened?" Faith thought Buffy was a pain in the ass, but hurting Xander deliberately? It was out of character.

Xander buried his face against his knees, shoulders shaking with sobs.

"Ah, Hell, Xan." Faith scooted closer and awkwardly patted his back. "It ain't that bad. Buffy'll wake up and see she's got a great guy for her sub." The comment made Faith roll her eyes.

They worked magic on Xander, though. His expression was a mix of hope and utter disbelief. "You think so?"

Faith chose the safest path. "If I was a Domme, I'd be showing you off to everyone," she told him. "You're hot; you're funny; and even Giles thinks you're a big part of the team." It didn't take a genius to see that Xander needed Giles' approval almost as much as he needed Buffy's fucking collar.

"And I'd be strutting because I had your collar, Faith." His eyes were soft and still damp from his tears.

"We'd be the hottest couple in Slayer history." Standing, Faith held out a hand. "Let's get you cleaned up. If I'm gonna collar you, you can't have dried snot and shit all over."

Xander's laugh was good to hear. And his smile was normal and goofy. "I met a Dom at last year's Social. He told me that seeing tearstains and streaky mascara on a submissive was a turn on. That it showed he'd done a good job during a scene. You don't feel the same way?"

"Xan, you start wearing mascara and I'm ditching your ass. I want my boy to look all manly; makeup's for the girls." They walked slowly toward the stairs. "You can use my bathroom. Take a shower if you want. Relax and wash up."

"Thanks." He leaned into Faith as they climbed the stairs. Faith found herself supporting him, murmuring encouragement to keep him moving. "You sure you don't mind if I shower?"

For an answer, Faith did her best Domme impression and pointed at the en suite bathroom door. "Get naked, stud. If I don't hear you singing in the shower fast enough, I'll come wash you myself." An image of them, naked under the shower spray, flashed through Faith's mind. Oh, yeah. That would be a whole lot of fun. She could push him back against the tiles, hold his hands over his head…

Xander didn't notice her distraction. "Thanks, Faith," he said again before going into the bathroom and closing the door.

Faith stared at the door, mind and body in turmoil. She needed her head examined. Buffy would kill her dead for even _thinking _about Xander as a fuck buddy. Deciding she needed to leave before she did something stupid, Faith strode for the door. Xander could find her once he was squeaky clean and completely dressed.

When the sound of choked, muffled sobs overrode the patter of running water, though, Faith cursed. "Xan? You OK in there, stud?"

Sobbing was her only answer.

Faith didn't hesitate. Screw Buffy and the possibility of dying. Faith walked into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain to find Xander huddled on the floor of the tub. "Ah, stud." With quick movements, she undressed and stepped under the water with him. "I got you. It'll be alright," she told him.

He inched closer and leaned into her legs.

One of Faith's hands stroked through his wet hair for a minute. Then Faith gently tugged. "Get up, Xan."

Responding instantly, Xander rose. His eyes, still so soft and warm, begged silently for Faith's help.

"I'm right here." Some deeply buried instinct drove Faith. It told her what to do, what to say. "I'm right here and I won't leave you, Xan. You know why? Because I _want _to be with you. And you want me to be here, right?"

Xander nodded.

It wasn't enough. Faith was about to cross a very big line. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to stay," she ordered him.

"Yes, Faith. Please stay. Don't leave me." Xander was so earnest, and his plea struck a chord in Faith.

Pushing him back against the shower wall, Faith raised both his hands and rested them against the cool tile. "These don't move; understand, stud? I want them to stay right here while I show you just how much I want you." The way Buffy should have done over and over.

"Yes, Faith." Oh, man. Faith could get used to that. Xander's eyes were locked on her as if she was the most important thing in his world.

She rewarded his compliance by fondling his cock and balls. Her teeth found his nipples, nipping and pulling in time with her hand as she settled into a smooth stroke. He hardened at her touch, and his groan echoed in the small shower stall.

"Look at you, stud. All hot and hard. You're gonna give me one hell of a ride, aren't you?" With a practiced move, she twisted her hand around the head of his cock. It twitched and Xander's hips thrust forward. "Don't get ahead of me, Xan. You don't get to finish until I tell you."

This time when he groaned, Faith smiled evilly. "It could be worse. If you move your hands or do anything I didn't tell you to do, you won't get to come at all. Understand?"

"Yes, Faith." Xander's voice cracked as he begged. "Please, please, Faith. Please tell me what you want. I'll do anything. Anything you want, Ma'am."

Faith jerked at the honorific and then shuddered as Xander's submission filled her with a heady sense of power. He was _hers _for the night. "Keep yourself hard, stud. I have to grab something." She stepped out of the shower, uncaring of the water already covering the floor from her entry and the new puddles she left as she exited. Xander's clothes were on the floor and she rooted through the pockets and his wallet. Yes! Ripping the condom packet open, she hopped back under the water – and stopped in awe.

Xander fisted his cock in long, hard strokes with one hand. The other remained raised and flush with the tile. "Good boy, Xan. Get back into position and let me take care of you." Obedience was slower this time. Xander took another pull at his erection before his visibly shaking hand joined the other against the wall.

If he was half as turned on as Faith was, his actions were understandable. Faith let it slide. She pulled the condom from the open package and deftly rolled in onto his cock. "OK, stud. I'm going to climb on." Putting her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist set her flush against him. She used the opportunity to grind against him. The friction was nearly too much. "Put your cock in me, Xan. Hurry." Need made her voice sharp and demanding.

"Yes. Yes, Faith." Xander was panting and his hips moved restlessly. His cock bumped against her as he reached between them.

Finally, he slid inside. "Fuck!" Faith clenched around him, enjoying the full feeling and the hint of pain from his length. "Let's see how good you really are, stud. I'm ready to ride." Using her legs for leverage, she pushed back and forth, up and down on his cock. The heat in the shower was unbearable. Steam filled the room and Faith's lungs as she sucked in air. Sweat and water coated her body.

She could feel him grow longer. "Please…I can't…Faith…"

"It's OK, stud. I'm right there, too." Faith slammed down on his cock and held on. "Come with me, Xan." Before she'd finished the command, Xander shouted hoarsely. She felt him shudder in time with her own climax.

Completely drained, Faith slid off Xander. He staggered and his knees buckled. Holding him upright, she waited until he seemed stable. "Got to clean you up real quick, stud." There was no playtime now. Faith dragged the soap over his body and shoved him under the spray. She repeated the actions on her own body.

Xander was totally pliant now. His eyes were a little glassy, too. Faith dried them both and led him to the bedroom. "Lay down, stud." Despite the fact that Faith had never before shared a bed with a sexual partner, she couldn't leave Xander alone. He was too far gone in subspace. Pushing her unease aside, Faith slid into bed next to him and pulled up the sheet. Faith stroked a hand over his back for a long time until his breathing evened out in sleep.

He'd be fine now. Faith quickly rolled out of bed. Then she stopped and watched Xander sleep for a moment. He looked so young. At least he also appeared more relaxed than when he'd arrived at the House. He'd be fine now. Faith grabbed a change of clothes and headed for one of the guest rooms a few doors down the hall.


	8. Chapter 8

Voices woke Faith. Doors slammed up and down the hallway outside her room. What now? Getting up, she pulled on her dirty clothes and started for the door. It flew open before she got there.

"Who the Hell do you think you are?" Buffy shouted. She grabbed Faith and threw her across the room and into a wall. "Xander is _mine._ He wears _my marker_." As Faith struggled to stand, Buffy stalked over and picked her up again.

Fear pulsed through Faith with each frantic beat of her heart. She'd never seen Buffy this out of control, this enraged. "B…" she gasped, "it wasn't like that." Faith had only been trying to help. "Did you talk to Xander?" The hands in her shirt tightened until the material ripped, and Buffy's fingers punched through. Faith felt Buffy's knuckles against her chest.

"I could kill you right now and no one would do anything," Buffy threatened.

That was it. Faith wasn't reasoning with Buffy any more. She was fighting for her life. She kicked Buffy in the stomach with everything she had. Buffy let go of her shirt and doubled over so Faith followed up with a quick punch to the side of Buffy's head.

Buffy stumbled, and Faith seized the opening. Vaulting over Buffy, she ran for the door – only to be tackled from behind. They tumbled into the hallway, a rolling mass of arms and legs. Faith's head slammed into the floor, and Buffy's fist slammed into her face several times. When they stopped moving (walls made really hard safety nets), Faith writhed and wiggled in a desperate bid for freedom.

Her bid failed.

Buffy held her pinned to the wall, hands locked around her throat.

She was barely conscious when someone pulled Buffy away. Slumping to the floor, Faith heard Giles demand through the ringing in her ears, "What the bloody Hell are you doing?"

"Faith slept with my sub," Buffy spat back.

If Faith had been able, she would have protested that last part. Xander might be bonded to Buffy, but he wasn't collared. Until then, he didn't actually belong to Buffy.

Luckily, Faith didn't have to say anything. As she sucked in harsh, painful breaths, Xander stepped in and spoke up. "_Am_ I your sub, Buffy? _Am I_?" As Faith slowly picked herself off the floor, Xander squared off with Buffy in the hall. All traces of the sad, desperate young man from earlier were gone. He stood tall and resolute in front of Buffy. His posture said he wasn't backing down. Xander was getting answers from Buffy.

Faith felt an odd sense of pride in him.

"The link's gone. I can't feel you anymore." Raising his right wrist to show off the un-stamped black cuff, Xander asked, "Should I exchange this for a Red Cuff? Did you Forsake me, Buffy? Because that's what it feels like."

Buffy turned deathly pale. Faith had seen vampires with more color. Ignoring her various aches and pains, she walked unsteadily toward the pair. Maybe if she smacked them both on the head, they'd realize they were being stupid and go find a bed to fuck in.

She never made it. Giles grabbed her roughly. "You will not interfere," he said with quiet intensity. "You have already done quite enough." Guiding her to the staircase, he continued his lecture. "We have all given you the benefit of the doubt. Argued with the Council against rehabilitation or deactivation. And you do _this _to repay us. To repay Buffy who has been your most vocal defender."

Faith wrenched away but Giles grabbed her again and manhandled her down the stairs. "I am at my wits end with you, young woman. I had hoped that you would find your place here. Rather than becoming a part of this family, however, you continue to act as you will with no thought to anyone else."

Giles was wrong. Faith _had _been thinking of someone else. She'd been thinking of Xander. She managed to pull away and run down the stairs, fleeing Giles' disappointment and the realization that no one would believe she hadn't slept with Xander to hurt him and Buffy.

* * *

The cream in Tara's coffee muddied the dark color. Wryly, she realized the swirling mixture matched her own confused thoughts.

"Earth to Tara. You with us? Or are you reading the coffee beans to see the future?" Trish teased.

"I think this shape here is called the Joker." Without looking up, Tara pointed to a particular splash of color. "It means Fate is laughing at me." Tara wished she could laugh. It might stave off the tears that were threatening. She felt them burning her eyes and prayed they stayed hidden.

Maxie stole the cup from Tara's hands. "I took a class in this last semester. Let me try." She peered into the coffee with a fierce frown. "No. You're wrong. That shape? It's the Train. Similar to Thomas the Train Engine, remember? It's a reminder you just have to keep chugging along to make it up that big hill."

"Thomas went off the tracks," Tara muttered. She was too tired to keep chugging. She wanted to pull into the station and let someone else take over as the engineer.

"No, he didn't." Trish tossed a packet of sugar across the table, and it bounced off Tara's shoulder. "What's got you all twisted up? Did something happen at dinner?"

Reclaiming her coffee from Maxie, Tara replayed events from their night out. "Dinner was fine. I just…I don't know." Actually, she did know. She was simply afraid to admit it to them.

"Don't make me figure it out on my own," Trish warned.

A half-second later, Maxie took over the conversation. "You don't have to figure it out, oh Great Lady. This is Tara. Our best friend is famous for not believing in herself. Does this sound about right, Tar? You watched all the couples at the party and suddenly realized you couldn't do what they do. All those confident, self-assured Dominants giving commands and expecting them to be obeyed. No one ever seemed unsure or embarrassed. Why would they? They were _real _Dominants."

The comments, no matter how much gentle good humor went into them, stung.

"_You're a Dominant?" Tara's father laughed, the sound filling their cavernous kitchen. "I should take that marker off your wrist and beat the lie out of you. You'll never be more than a pathetic sub like your whore of a mother. Look at you! Who's going to kneel for a sniveling, stuttering wreck like you?"_

Tara's hand shook so badly that coffee spilled onto the table. Setting the cup down, she grabbed napkins to clean up – and to hide her reaction to the memory of her father's scorn.

Two hands rushed to help her. Both then covered Tara's hand and gripped tightly in support. "Everyone who says Dominance is natural, that you either have it or you don't, is full of shit," Trish said quietly. "Maybe there are a few Dominants who can walk into a room and send subs dropping to their knees. I've never met them. Everyone I know, including most of the people at dinner tonight, had to learn what worked and what didn't."

"And don't forget." Maxie wiggled their joined hands until Tara glanced at her. "Submissives _need _control and structure. It gives you an edge."

"I know it's more than that," Tara disagreed. "If I walked into a room and gave you a command, Maxie, what would you do?" Narrowing her eyes, she dared Maxie to lie.

"Well, if you used that expression right there," Maxie pointed at Tara with her free hand, "I'd do whatever you wanted."

What expression? Tara considered banging her head on the table. This was so confusing.

"Before you start beating yourself up again, let's talk about tonight." Trish pulled her ever-present backpack from underneath the table and dug out a notebook and pen. With quick strokes, she drew a series of rows and columns on a blank page: Dominant, Pro, Con. "Which Dominant did you most want to be?"

It sounded like a bizarre game show question. "Contestant Number One, if you could be any Dominant in history, which would you choose?"

The prize for a correct answer wouldn't be a million dollars, though. Still, Tara thought about the people at the party. "Brian," she finally answered and watched Trish write his name in the first Dominant box. "He wasn't demanding or arrogant. He was polite." In fact, he'd always phrased his commands as requests. Please and thank you. "And I thought the way he made his Sue do some of his work was interesting."

When Sue had gotten bratty, sticking her tongue out and mimicking Brian's request, he'd raised an eyebrow and asked, "What did we discuss last week about this type of behavior?" There had been nothing overtly threatening about the question. In fact, Brian had conveyed a hint of disappointment. Sue had turned bright red and immediately dropped her chin – and the behavior stopped.

"Brian's the best," Maxie said. She patted Trish's hand. "Not better than you, Trish. I'd go crazy with all the questions. Give me the direct approach any day. But his style suits Tara. I can easily imagine her pinning her sub with a weary 'how could you do this to me?' look and asking, 'do you remember our conversation from last week?'" She shivered. "Crap, just thinking about it makes me want to kneel."

With a disgruntled sniff, Trish went back to her chart. "From best to worst. Which Dominant was a complete turn off?"

This one was easy. "Monica. She reminded me of my father. She gave orders and never praise." Several times, Tara had had to restrain herself from interfering.

"Yeah, she can be hard to take," Trish agreed. "She's really not as bad as you think, though. She and Drew have a unique dynamic. He's a masochist He gets off on the rough stuff, and humiliation is a big bonus. The way she treats him is part of their contract. Tonight was actually pretty tame. The last dungeon party they attended, she made him crawl behind her with a sign hung around his neck." She grimaced. "Monica's Pain Slut. Please hurt me."

"I've had lunch with Drew a few times." Maxie sipped her coffee. "He's very sweet and he absolutely adores Monica. I may not understand what they do, but it works for them. It doesn't have to work for you, Tara."

Good thing. There was no way Tara would ever treat a submissive that way. "You should be on the chart, too, Trish." Tara enjoyed Trish's slight flush and her pleased wiggle. "Maxie's a person to you, not just a sub. You let her speak her mind and be part of conversations. Within boundaries."

"Maxie's not only a person, she's my friend," Trish answered. A happy smile blossomed when Maxie moved from her chair and climbed into Trish's lap. "The key is…?" She waited expectantly for Tara to fill in the blanks.

"It works for you." Tara had to laugh. Trish was a good teacher; she doled out information yet pushed Tara to think beyond the current lesson. "You're telling me I can take notes and try out things I think I like. When it comes right down to it, though, I won't know what my dynamic will be until I figure out what works for me and my sub."

Peering over Maxie's head, which was tucked securely beneath her chin, Trish advised Tara. "Mock not, I say, young Dominant. Focus your powers, you will."

"Oh, stop!" Tara hurled the sugar packet back at Trish. "That's terrible." She would have said more about Trish's sense of humor except sharp pains suddenly exploded in her face and ribs. Gasping, Tara grabbed her cheek and bent protectively forward.

As suddenly as they arrived, the pains were gone.

"Tara?" Maxie and Trish stared at her with wide eyes.

"I don't…" The pain was back, worse this time because Tara hadn't fully recovered from the first occurrence. She could still hear Maxie and Trish talking to her. Asking questions. But she couldn't answer. The pain ballooned, this time in her throat, and then settled into a dull sullen throb eclipsed by a heady mix of rage and resentment.

The emotions were so foreign to Tara that she automatically strengthened her mental shields. It helped; the overwhelmingly strong emotions faded slightly. Tara was able to straighten and take a series of calming breaths. And finally the feelings disappeared entirely.

While Tara did an internal check on her shields, Trish cleared her throat. "You know how you were worried about being a good Domme? And how you didn't want to find a submissive?"

"Mmm." Most of Tara's attention was devoted to finding the source of the mental attack.

"You don't have a choice anymore," Trish announced. "We're going to have to speed you through Dominance 101 all the way to the final courses."

There were no leaks or holes in her shielding. Tara would have to cast a full Circle and pull everything down. Rebuild from the ground up. "What?" Blinking to readjust to using regular sight rather than internal Sight, she tried to make sense of Trish's comments. "One dinner party and a chart is enough to pass me through all the basics?"

"No." Trish's smile was oddly sympathetic. She set Maxie on her feet and leaned across the table. "Tell me. When you grabbed your face, what happened?"

"I don't know." Tara didn't bother going into a full explanation regarding possible magical attacks.

"I do," Trish said, surprising Tara. "You suddenly felt something. Some pain or emotion out of the blue. It was there and then it was gone, am I right?"

Foreboding filled Tara. She wasn't going to like what Trish had to say. "Yes."

"Congratulations, Tar." Toasting Tara with her coffee cup, Trish continued. "You've just been bonded. What you felt? That's the bond beginning to form; you felt something from your sub."


	9. Chapter 9

"A bond?" Tara echoed. Then followed that up with an equally dazed, "Sub?"

Trish took Tara's hand and patted it gently. "I know the classes say the bond happens all at once, fully formed. Reality isn't so perfect. Sometimes one or both of the bondmates isn't open to the bond. They can block it, intentionally or subconsciously. In cases where one bondmate is in a high-stress or high-emotion situation, the other bondmate may get flashes through the developing link."

That wasn't good. What Tara had felt had been excruciating pain and killing rage. Her sub was in trouble. Her sub. Tara wanted to hide under the table and shout the news from the rooftops all at the same time. Goddess, she wasn't ready for this.

"I can hear the gerbil-wheel in her head turning," Maxie said. She made no effort to hide her comment. "And…is that smoke?" She sniffed a few times.

"Don't be mean, little girl." Trish came to Tara's defense. "You have no idea what happens to a Dominant when the bond forms. The moment you feel the bond, even the _hint _of a thought from your submissive, you can't think of anything else. That sub is _yours. _Yours to treasure and protect and love and train and a million other things. But mostly yours. Where are you going to live? How are you going to support both of you? What if they're sick? Or scared? What if they don't want to be bonded and they repudiate you? It's exhausting and terrifying."

Tara couldn't agree more. "What am I going to do?"

"First, you have to stop panicking. It won't do any good." Trish, the Voice of Experience. "Then we keep working on your confidence and skills. For all we know, he or she won't find you for years."

"What?" Tara came out of her chair. She couldn't wait years. Not now. Her submissive needed her.

Maxie stood, too. "Come on, Tara. Let's get you home. You're so wound up now, caffeine and sugary goodness are the last things you need."

* * *

Damn Xander and his big doe eyes. Storming out of the House, Faith wished she'd skipped dinner and hidden in her room. Better yet, she should have told Xander to grow the fuck up and tell Buffy to bed him or let him go. But no. No. She had to try and help him. Why? Because she was stupid. She should have known better. The whole Sunnydale crew thought she was worthless; of course, they'd expect the worst when they found out she'd slept with Xander.

Damn all of them! She was done with Sunnydale. It didn't matter that her recently-packed bag was still in her bedroom. She was a fair hand at hot-wiring. And she could swipe clothes and money before leaving town. The best place to do her shopping would be downtown.

Anger improved even Slayer speed. She sprinted through darkened streets, using backyards as shortcuts. Why waste time? Faith had made up her mind. Sunnydale would be a blip in the rear view mirror by sunrise. It took only minutes to reach downtown. Here, at least, there were people on the streets. Just a few, though. Only the very hardy or the very stupid risked becoming vampire chow by staying out after dark.

Faith didn't care which category the old guy in front of the movie theater fell into. She needed to make a withdrawal from the bank and he looked like the perfect teller. Slowing her pace, Faith moved up behind him - and accidentally slipped. Momentum carried her forward into her mark and they both tumbled to the ground. "Hey, my bad. I'm sorry." With her most charming smile firmly in place, Faith scrambled up and held out her hand.

"I was about to say you might watch where you were going," the man said as he let Faith help him up. He didn't notice she'd also helped herself to the wallet in his jacket pocket. "But then I realized you had more important things on your mind than a wandering old man taking up the sidewalk. You must be Faith, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Faith wanted to stomp her feet in frustration. He knew who she was. Once he realized his wallet was missing, he'd send the police to the Slayer House and the hunt would be on.

"We missed each other at the Winter Social. I'm Richard Wilkins III." Still smiling, Richard took her hand again and pumped it up and down. "Oh, you don't recognize me. How refreshing! I'm the Mayor of Sunnydale."

The Mayor of Sunnydale. Absolutely fucking perfect. Wallet burning a hole in her pocket, Faith tried not to panic. This was absolutely the wrong time to cut and run. "Nice to meet you." She dared a quick glance at his wrists. "Sir," she tacked on with as much reverence as she could muster when she saw his Dominant marker. Which wasn't a lot; the word came out flat and abrupt.

"What a polite young woman." Without asking for her permission, Richard wrapped his arm around Faith and walked them in the direction of the Slayer House.

Faith dragged her feet. She had to fix this. Fast. Before going ass up for Janna again was the least of her worries. If the Council found out she'd stolen from the Mayor of fucking Sunnydale, they'd probably do a lot worse than beat her or lock her up. "Hey, I think you dropped something." Praying Slayer speed disguised her sleight of hand, Faith unloaded the wallet onto the ground and pretended to pick it up. "This yours?"

The Mayor's eyes widened comically and he patted down all of his pockets. "It is! It is." Plucking the wallet from her hand, he checked its contents. "And everything is there. Well, except for this." He pulled a fifty dollar bill out and handed it to Faith. "You hear so many terrible things about the next generation. Your generation, Faith," Richard clarified. "They have no manners and they lack necessary life skills. But not you."

Something weird happened then. Faith blushed and ducked her head. Her chest felt...light. "Thank you, Sir."

Regarding her closely, the Mayor gently touched her shoulder. "No, Faith. You don't have to call me Sir. But I thank you for the respect. Why don't you call me Richard unless we have company? And then Mr. Mayor will do."

"Sure. Richard." Used to creating nicknames for the people around her - usually to annoy them - Faith found it very difficult to use the Mayor's first name.

"So where were you headed in such a hurry? And what is this?" He brushed the lapels of her jacket aside and glanced at the rips in her shirt. "Are you hurt?"

Crap. She'd forgotten that Buffy had nearly stripped her naked when they'd been fighting. Moving back, Faith flashed the Mayor a smile. "I'm fine. Guess that last vamp got a little closer than I thought."

He didn't buy her explanation immediately. In fact, tilted his head and peered at her as if he could read her mind. After a long minute, he finally relaxed. "I'm very glad he only damaged your shirt."

Faith quickly buttoned her jacket to hide the tears.

Richard steered Faith toward the Espresso Pump. "Since you've already been out saving the world, something I understand is common in your line of work, would you join me for a coffee? My treat, of course. And one of the Pump's delicious muffins."

Faith's stomach growled audibly. She'd never retrieved the lasagna from the microwave. "Are you sure? 'Cause Slayers eat a lot. I don't want to spend all your money on muffins."

"Nonsense, Faith. The city should be happy to have you here protecting us all. What are a few muffins for a hero?" Richard opened the door and pulled Faith aside as a group of women exited.

One of them was Tara, but she didn't appear to notice Faith. One of Tara's friends was saying, "...calm down. What are you going to do, Tar? Run through the streets of Sunnydale looking? What if he or she isn't even here?" Her voice faded away as they walked down the sidewalk.

Following the Mayor inside, Faith scanned the menu. She'd only been here a few times. Not enough to know the menu. Richard, though, moved up to the counter like a man on a mission. "I'd like an extra large hot chocolate and a dozen assorted muffins, please." He gestured to Faith. "And whatever my young friend is having as well."

Faith wasn't a coffee drinker. In fact, she hated it. "Hot chocolate sounds good."

"A girl after my own heart." The Mayor seemed like a big kid as he beamed at the barista. "And, hey, you wouldn't have any of those little marshmallows, too?" While they waited for the order, Richard talked to Faith. "I met a Mr. Giles, I think his name was, at the Winter Social. Nice man. A bit stiff for my taste, though. He mentioned you'd recently moved to Sunnydale. Where did you grow up? Or were you reassigned from another city? I know I should keep better track of things like this, but… Well, I'll try to do better from now on."

"Boston." The biggest Hellhole on the planet. Even Sunnydale was a distant second. "You?" Faith really wished she was better at small talk; she needed to distract the Mayor before he asked anything else about her past.

Richard paid for their drinks and food and started for a small table in a back corner. "I've moved around a lot. Itchy feet, I guess. Once I saw this area, though, I knew I wanted to stay."

It didn't say much for his taste in locations. Even Faith was smart enough to keep that thought to herself. "Hope your family didn't mind stayin' put." Maybe she _could _do all the polite chit chat Giles always wanted.

"I don't have any family, Faith." Richard's smile dimmed for the first time. Fiddling with the sleeves of his crisply-starched dress shirt. "My sub died many years ago." For the first time, Faith noticed that his marker was red. How had she missed that before? "We had hoped to start a family in Sunnydale, but I'm afraid we weren't that blessed."

What was the right thing to say? Faith had never met anyone who really _wanted _a family. Well, except for that one dinner with Buffy and her mother. Kids were a money making tool where she'd grown up in South Boston. "I'm sorry." Reaching out hesitantly, she touched his hand.

"Thank you." He patted her arm and then shook like a dog after a swim at Carson Beach. "Enough about me, though. Tell me a little about Faith. Are you settling in? Moving and learning to work with new people is always difficult, isn't it? New rules, new expectations."

"Yeah." Faith took a big bite of a chocolate chip muffin to avoid saying more. Richard didn't know the half of it.

"I admire the way you're obviously willing to make it work. That's what I like about you, Faith. You're a hard worker, keeping us all safe from nasty vampires and demons. We need more young people like you. In fact, if you didn't already have a job, I'd hire you for my staff. I could use a woman with your talents. That Mr. Giles is lucky to have you on his team."

The muffin stuck in Faith's throat. Giles didn't think he was lucky; he thought Faith was a complete lossloser as a Slayer and as a person.

Richard nibbled on his own muffin and idly glanced at his watch. "How did it get so late? I'm afraid I have an early meeting. How about I walk with you back to the Slayer House? Take the rest of the muffins. They'll make a nice, healthy breakfast for you."

Back to the House. The last place Faith wanted to be. But she didn't want to disappoint Richard by admitting the truth. "That'd be great, Sir. I mean, Richard." If she could get him to leave her at the door, she'd slip away. She picked up the box of muffins and helped Richard clean off the table. "If you ain't got time to walk me home," the words tasted like garbage as she spoke, "I'm good on my own."

"I'd never do that. When I was a boy, my father taught me that one should always escort a lady to her door." He held out his crooked arm. "Shall we go?"

Faith placed her hand on his arm. "Ready."

They walked slowly; Richard acted as a tour guide, pointing out things Faith had never known about Sunnydale. "Did you know that the land around Sunnydale used to be home to both the Navajo and Chumash tribes? It's believed that there are ancient burial grounds nearby; although, no one's found any evidence of that."

"Be kinda funny. I mean, Sunnydale already has more cemeteries than even Boston." Giles had tried to get her to read a history book on Sunnydale but this was far better. "What else you know?"

"Oh, Faith. I know everything. Every detail. It's almost as if I was there when the first building went up in town." Richard leaned his head back and looked at the stars. "My grandfather, the original Richard Wilkins, founded the town back in 1899. He was the one who decided to call this place Sunnydale. Happydale and Sunny Acres were his other options, but… Grandpa decided to take a little of both."

The House was up ahead. Faith wanted to turn and run. Instead, she followed the Mayor up the front stairs. "Thanks from bringing me home, Richard. I had fun." It was true, Faith realized. Richard had treated her like someone he wanted to know.

"Me, too, Faith. Maybe we could…" The front door opened and interrupted him. "Ah, hello! Mr. Giles, right? I'm Richard Wilkins III."

"Mr. Mayor." Giles' eyes darted between Richard and Faith. "And Faith. I'm sorry, Sir. I really hope Faith didn't bother you this evening. We've been searching for her since she ran off this evening. A slight misunderstanding with our Senior Slayer, I'm afraid."

"Faith wasn't any trouble." Richard sounded genuinely shocked that Giles would even think that. "And I'm sure your other Slayer will see the error of her ways and apologize. Now, Faith, why don't you head inside? I'm sure you need to get some rest. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you because you were tired. Give my office a call in the morning. I'd love to take you on a tour of City Hall. Maybe have lunch. I know this excellent restaurant just outside of town."

Faith nodded. Without meeting Giles' gaze, she ducked inside. "Thanks again, Mr. Mayor." Clutching the box of muffins and her ice-cold cup of hot chocolate, Faith started up the stairs.


	10. Chapter 10

"Faith!" Of course, Giles couldn't let Faith make her escape. Stopping mid-way up the stairs, Faith turned. "You are under house arrest. Did that slip your mind?"

Not at all. Faith managed to keep that thought to herself. "It didn't look like ya' really wanted me to stay," she said honestly.

Her comment drew a pained sigh from Giles. "I am sorry if we gave you that impression. Be that as it may, you left the House without permission when you had specifically been instructed to remain on the grounds."

What an asshole. He cared more about the rules than he did about her. It shouldn't have been a surprise, yet it was – and it hurt. Faith was a _person_. A person with real feelings. And right now, Faith was starting to feel a whole lot of anger again. Bottling it up was difficult; however, Faith let the memory of the Mayor's approval combat the rage. "Look, Giles. I'm sorry. I was sorry five minutes after I left." Because her backpack was up in her room, not because she'd broken his fucking rules. "And I woulda been right back if I hadn't run into the Mayor." Partly true. She had run into Richard. "I promise to stay at the House, alright?"

"It is not 'alright.'" Giles ruined his lecture with a yawn. "However, I am too tired to discuss it further. We will continue this in the morning. I expect you to be in my office promptly at six to review the events of tonight and to plan out your training schedule for the week."

"Six?" Giles was crazy. Faith could get up at seven and still make it to school on time. She could tell he was waiting for her to refuse, though. And if she did, he'd probably run right to the Council with everything that had happened earlier. "Whatever." She'd be there. Somehow. And then she'd call Richard during lunch to set up the tour. Giles wouldn't risk offending someone as important as the Mayor over her house arrest. "Can I go now?"

He started to nod and then stopped. "One last thing."

Faith considered sitting down and getting comfortable. "Shoot," she told him.

"I apologize for overreacting this evening. Xander set both Buffy and I straight on what truly occurred." Really? Faith's disbelief must have shown. Giles thawed enough to give her a quirky smile. "While I cannot say I condone your methods, I _can _concede you did not intend deliberate mischief with your actions. I am sure Buffy shall have more to say to you once she and Xander have sorted themselves out. Have a good evening, my dear." He left her on the stairs and disappeared through the living room.

Xander had backed her up. Giles and Buffy knew the truth. Even better, Faith might just have made her first friend in Sunnydale. Maybe she'd put her backpack in the closet for a while. See how things went.

It was a good thing Faith had saved a couple of the muffins. Rolling out of bed just before six was hard, no matter how many good intentions she had. A cold shower left her shivering – and still groggy. Giles was crazy. No one needed to be up this early. She did manage to make it to his office right on time, though, and slumped into one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk.

"Good morning, Faith." Either Giles was poking the beast with his cheery attitude, or he was the most clueless man on the planet.

Faith grunted in return. He'd said she had to be here. He hadn't said anything about being awake.

"Now, we need to arrange your training and patrol schedule for the week. You have shown improvement in your hand to hand…"

The words faded out. Faith really didn't care about any of it. It was training. Hitting (or stabbing) practice dummies or sparring with a heavily-padded Giles wasn't high on her Fun Meter. Buffy probably wouldn't be around to spar since she and Xander were off doing whatever it took to pry Buffy's head out of her ass.

Unfortunately, Giles was serious about the scheduling. Faith dragged her attention back to the conversation when he cleared his throat. "Are you paying attention?"

Silence was probably wiser than a lie. Giles sometimes had a sixth sense when it came to Faith's lies.

"I thought not." He pushed a single sheet of paper across the desk toward Faith. A weekly calendar filled with very tiny handwriting. Lovely. Giles needed to learn how to use a computer. Faith would never be able to read this. "Please look over the information. I have shortened your daily routine by thirty minutes to allow you to complete your studies before patrol."

Patrol. Faith's head came up. That's how she spotted Giles' smirk. "What about me stayin' in the House?"

"Buffy is currently out of rotation." Even the knowledge that she was free only because Buffy was unavailable didn't lessen Faith's relief. "As long as you report to the House immediately after school for workouts and are gone only for patrol, I see no reason to request assistance from Los Angeles," Giles continued.

There was only one problem. "And I'm good to call the Mayor?"

Giles paused to consider. "Privileges are earned, Faith. Do you truly believe this is something you have earned with your recent behavior?"

He was still twisted up about that? "I did my time, took my lumps." Faith snapped. She still had the bruises on her ass to prove it. "Thought once the punishment was over, you couldn't bitch about it? I'm pretty sure that was part of the big speech Janna gave me at the end." Not that she'd paid much attention. She'd been too busy trying to remember how to stand up.

At least Giles had the grace to flush and glance away. "I was not...I would never..." Ripping off his glasses, he began furiously polishing them. "I merely wanted to stress that, given your recent struggles with curfew and under-aged drinking, I am concerned, Faith. You are not considering a visit with a school friend. This is the Mayor of Sunnydale. He has authority in this town, obviously. And should he notice any," the glasses went back on, "irregularities in your behavior, it could adversely affect this House and our presence here."

Barely holding back her automatic "Duh!" response, Faith said bitterly, "I got it, Giles. The Mayor can't know I'm a fuck up." His lips pressed together angrily, and Faith scowled down at her boots. "Can I call him? Please," she forced out.

"Yes, Faith. On the condition you inform me of any visits you arrange with Mayor Wilkins. Should the Council inquire as to your whereabouts, I will be prepared to tell them of your new-found verve for local government." Giles shuffled a few of the many files on his desk in a clear dismissal.

Wasting no time, Faith sprang from her chair and headed for the door. She paused in the doorway, though. "Thanks, Giles."

His soft, "You are welcome, my dear," followed her into the hallway.

* * *

Tara was up and showered long before her alarm finally sounded. She'd been awake, sitting in the dark, for hours. Bonded. The word repeated endlessly in her mind. Of course, she'd known it was a possibility. Everyone knew that over ninety percent of people eventually discovered their bondmate. Tara had simply believed she'd be one of those who never found anyone.

Bonded.

Centering herself mentally, she reached out, trying to find a hint of the bondmate link. It had been there last night. And Tara was worried about her submissive. Unfortunately, the link was a very short dead end. It was there..and went nowhere. She couldn't feel anything. Giving up the search sapped Tara's already-diminished excitement about the day.

"Get up on the wrong side of the bed?" Trish was alone with a bowl of cereal when Tara entered the kitchen. The under-microwave light supplied the only illumination.

It suited Tara's mood. "I guess," she said softly.

"Maybe this will help." Getting up, Trish opened the door at the far end of the kitchen leading to the laundry. Brian, Monica, and Jay, Dominants from the dinner party, popped out. "Surprise!" she called out. The lights came on, revealing a pile of wrapped items on the counters.

"What's going on?" Tara peered at the group in confusion.

Brian bowed. "It's a tradition to celebrate a fellow Dominant's new bonding. Trish called last night to share the good news. Unfortunately, you're stuck with just the four of us because of the short notice. The rest of the gang will be by to deliver their congratulations as soon as they can." He took one of the presents from the counter and held it out. "Open this one first."

Blinded by tears, Tara carefully undid the wrapping paper to reveal a square wooden box. A plain black leather cuff nestled inside.

"We'll do the honors." Monica, appearing far more approachable this morning, unbuckled Tara's current cuff. "The bond between a Dominant and their submissive goes beyond any mental link. It is a commitment by the Dominant to love, protect, and guide the submissive regardless of the way they relate within a dynamic."

Brian stepped forward and took the new cuff from the box. "Can you make this commitment willingly?" His eyes were serious as he waited for Tara's answer.

"Yes." Tara's doubts about her abilities didn't magically disappear. However, the crippling fear of not being good enough had dimmed with the beginning of the bond. Fate or the Goddess had judged her worthy of the bond. Tara would find a way to be what her submissive needed.

"Welcome to the family." Brian buckled the cuff around her wrist and enveloped her in a hug. He wiped the tears from her face and then offered a tissue from the box on the kitchen table. "You didn't really think we'd let something like this go without a party? Even if it is over cereal since Trish can't cook and Maxie can't be here."

At Tara's questioning look, Trish explained. "No subs allowed. It's a Dominants only clubhouse at the moment."

"So what can you tell us?" Offering another gift, Jay finally joined the conversation. "What's your sub like?" He held up his hands as Brian poked him in the shoulder. "Hey, you can act like you don't care. Me? I'm not afraid to be nosy."

"You have absolutely no class, Jay," Monica opined. She sat down at the table, crossed her legs, and began reading the nutritional information on the side of the cereal box. "It's always fun to have these celebrations. I spent a wild night of debauchery with my sister and three of her girlfriends when my link with Drew appeared."

Tara was so distracted with envisioning a younger Monica that she forgot about the present in her hands.

Trish hadn't. She interrupted Monica's tale with a firm, "Rip it open or I'll give you a firsthand lesson in kitchen utensils-cum-punishment tools."

Making a big show of following the order, Tara murmured a mocking, "Yes, Mistress," and sliced a piece of tape with her fingernail. She repeated the gesture four more times before tossing the paper at Trish's head. "Oh!" The complete, illustrated (and very expensive) collection of _Domination: A Road to Self Discovery. _There was no card included; Tara checked for one twice.

Jay shoved another gift toward Tara as she glanced around the group, trying to spot the giver.

Each of them met her gaze easily.

Sneaky Dominants. Vowing to discover who had given her the books, Tara took the next gift and began unwrapping it.

"As I was saying, I had this fantastically crazy party with my sister and her friends. It was an all-night affair with food and gifts and a willing submissive." She waited for Tara to pull off the paper and grinned at her flaming blush. "It was the first time I'd ever tied up a real person and not those creepy blow-up submissives they used in Dominance classes."

"Ones like that?" Brian pointed to the box Tara clutched in her hands.

Monica nodded. "Exactly like that one. A real person is so much better, Tara, I promise. You could go to a club and find a willing sub to practice on. I didn't have that option. I was ten years old when I bonded with Drew. My sub at the party was my best friend's little brother. To this day, he runs away the minute he sees me."

Everyone laughed.

"Thank you, Monica," Tara said sincerely. "I'll think of you every time I use Bondage Betty."

"She'll be remembering this moment and imagining you were Betty, Mon." Jay blew a kiss at Monica as she glared at him. "You should rename her Manacled Monica."

Tara wagged a finger at Jay. "You are so bad, Jay. I like you." He seized her hand and kissed it as she reached for the final gift, a sealed envelope.

"Will the bondage practice come in handy with your sub, Tara? Does he or she enjoy decorative rope bondage?" Monica asked casually.

"I don't know. I only caught a glimpse of thought last night." Tara tore open the envelope with a speed worthy of Trish. "She was scared. And in pain. I think she's in trouble," she admitted, pulling out a gift card for Leader of the Pack Leather, the best leather store in California.

Monica sat forward. "I was going to gloat about getting information for you, Jay. But bragging on my interrogation skills seems out of place. Tell us everything, Tara. Maybe we can help."


	11. Chapter 11

Rushing. In the week since Brian had buckled on her new cuff, it had become almost normal for Tara. She rushed to class. She rushed to the library to complete homework for college classes and Dominant training with Trish. She rushed to additional Dominant training sessions with The Trio, as she'd begun calling them.

And right now, Tara was rushing for a lesson with Brian. A lesson with a live submissive.

If she hadn't been in such a hurry, that thought might have scared her right out of town. There just wasn't enough time for a really good fit of the vapors, though. Tara spared only a second to acknowledge the anxious cramping in her stomach as she entered Top of the World, one of the few Sunnydale clubs.

"ID?" The bouncer stopped her headlong rush just inside the door.

Right. Tara fumbled in her backpack for a minute before brandishing her driver's license. She stood mostly still as the man carefully held the laminated plastic card up near her head and visually matched it to her face. Good luck, she thought. The photo was so bad; she looked like a strung out vampire.

Apparently, his eyesight was better than Tara's. That or vampires were welcome inside. He placed an "under-21" stamp on her left hand. "Have a good evening, Ma'am."

"Thank you." The urge to turn tail and run ballooned. Tara was short of breath just walking toward the dance floor and play space. Brian had emailed her earlier to say he would reserve a table in a secluded corner of the main floor. Consciously slowing her breathing, Tara forced shaking legs to carry her toward the smattering of tables. Faux candlelight shone in ornate brass holders mounted on the wall and soft music played in the background.

"Tara! I'm glad you made it," Brian said as if they were meeting at the Pump for coffee. He was dressed in shorts, T-shirt, and flip flops. The quintessential California Golden Boy.

Tara responded to his relaxed attitude and attire immediately. She'd been expecting more traditional club clothing. Seeing Brian in tight leather might have pushed her over the edge – and right out the door. "Sorry I'm late."

"We've been keeping you busy. I thought you might be running behind." Pulling a chair away from the table, he helped her sit down. "If you're ready, though, I'd like to get started. I want you to have plenty of time for your practicum."

"OK." Tara's anxiety returned.

Brian paused and waited until she nodded for him to continue. "Trish and I have been talking." That didn't bode well. "You're probably not going to like what I have to say." Tara stared longingly over his shoulder at the door. "You spend too much time learning and not enough doing. If you were ten and needed us to teach you the basics, book work and theory would be fine. But you're not, Tara. You're eighteen. The longer you listen to us lecture, the more you worry about whether you can actually _do _any of the things you learn."

He was a mind reader, and Tara almost regretted telling Trish's friends an edited version of her past. "I…"

Interrupting, Brian said, "Dominance isn't a science. It's not about understanding a rigid set of rules or laws. It's about observation and _feeling_. It's about learning what your partner wants and needs and helping them find it. And you can't learn that from a book, Tara. You learn that by talking. And listening. Not with me and Trish. With a submissive."

Gentle hands turned Tara in her chair until she faced one particular conversation nook. The Sub Station. Every club had one. A place for submissives to gather.

A place for Dominants to cruise for companionship.

"I can't do that." Tara's stomach threatened to revolt. She couldn't just walk up to the group scattered through the Sub Station and pick one up for the evening.

"You can. You have to. Tonight. Now." Brian was uncompromising. "Don't be afraid of your Dominance, Tara."

His words were an eerie echo of Althenea's warning. Goddess, Tara couldn't let fear keep her frozen any longer. She reluctantly turned her attention to the four women and two men chatting and laughing across the room. One of them noticed her watching. He ducked his head, dropping his eyes for an instant before peering at her through his lashes.

"Go on. Go talk to him," Brian urged.

Tara stood and moved woodenly across the floor. This felt all wrong. Not only wasn't she ready, but she was _bonded_. It didn't matter that the bond wasn't complete or that she'd never held a conversation with her submissive. She kept walking, though. Brian was right; she was afraid. If she didn't act now, the fear would win.

The rest of the submissives had turned to watch her approach, and Tara glanced away. Meat market, much? That's when she noticed another submissive slouched in the far corner of a couch, nearly hidden by the high arm. She automatically changed course.

"May I join you?" Tara asked the pretty brunette submissive.

Without glancing up, the woman muttered a sullen, "I guess."

It wasn't the response Tara expected. However, she suspected it was an honest response. Sinking into the soft cushions nearby, Tara sighed and closed her eyes. "Thank you. It's been a long day," she said as if the submissive had welcomed her company.

Tara felt the other woman shift on the couch. "Do you want…I could get you a drink?" The question was reluctantly offered, a nod to convention rather than a desire to serve.

Opening her eyes, Tara turned and caught the submissive watching her. So many things were wrong with this scene, with the submissive's behavior. Should she say something? Examining the woman, Tara noticed her tension. Her posture was so stiff, it appeared she might break. Her hands were fisted in her lap. And, as Tara completed her perusal, the woman's chin raised almost defiantly.

She clearly expected Tara to call her out. Why? Shelving that for later consideration, Tara confronted a more immediate issue: the submissive didn't seem to _want _Tara to get angry with her behavior. If that was the case, why was she even in the club? It was a mystery Tara suddenly needed to solve. "That would be wonderful, sweetie. Just water, please," she requested.

Tara kept her attention on the woman while she walked to the bar. It was a good thing. She received several furtive glances. Obviously, the submissive didn't trust Tara's interest. Someone had clearly betrayed her in the past. Tara kept her gaze sure and steady, never glancing away. She wasn't going to desert the poor sub, and she hoped her expression conveyed that.

What could be better? A reluctant Dominant and her reluctant submissive. Brian and Trish were going to pay for this. Somehow. Some way.

When the submissive returned with a bottled water, Tara took a deep breath. It was time to stop hiding. She had a submissive who needed something from her; Tara simply had to discover what that was. To that end, Tara didn't reach for the bottle the woman held out for her. She raised a single eyebrow in a gesture she'd seen Trish use and then glanced at the floor next to her feet.

She and the woman were not equals. There were protocols that should be observed. The sub had the right to refuse, of course. She and Tara weren't bonded. However, Tara needed to see how the woman would react.

The bottle wavered in the air as the submissive recoiled. Tara didn't say anything. In fact, she didn't even react to the refusal to obey. She simply met the woman's eyes and…waited. Waited as if obedience were a given. Of course the submissive would kneel at her silent command. Tara was a Dominant; she expected – and would get – nothing less.

Tara's tactic worked. After a momentary hesitation, the submissive dropped to her knees next to Tara. "Your water, Ma'am."

An electric spark of accomplishment lit Tara's emotions. She'd done it. She'd actually given a command and been obeyed. More than that, it was the first time she'd _earned _the honorific rather than received it because of her marker.

"Thank you, sweetie." Tara took the bottle and set it on the end table. She hadn't really wanted a drink. "What's your name, pretty one?" Setting her fingers under the woman's chin, she raised it slightly so she could watch the submissive's expression.

The touch also allowed Tara to feel the lingering tension in the submissive's body. "Mari, Ma'am."

Releasing Mari's chin, Tara gently stroked over her neck and shoulder. Soft strokes meant to soothe and relax rather than arouse. Tara didn't speak. Not yet. Mari wasn't ready for that. Little by little, the sounds from the club faded into the background. Tara forgot the other people wandering by or watching from the other tables or couches. Her world had narrowed to Mari. Mari's soft skin, her expressive eyes – and the tension slowly dropping away under Tara's hands.

Tara knew it was time to move forward when Mari released a deep sigh and her body finally settled comfortably into position. Pulling the submissive closer, she encouraged Mari to lean into her leg and cupped the back of her neck. "Tell me what's wrong, sweetie."

* * *

Faith knew she wasn't alone in the House. A familiar tingle traced along her skin. Each step closer to the second floor and the gym increased the buzz as well as Faith apprehension. This could go one of two ways: Faith would end the night as a corpse or she would walk away with nothing more than the usual bumps and bruises.

The equipment had been pushed against the walls and mats covered the wood floors in the darkened gym. "Hey, B. Thought you and Xander were honeymooning or whatever," Faith said to Buffy, who continued her stretching routine on the mats without looking up.

"We're waiting until after the latest Big Bad is gone." Buffy leaned forward and pressed her face against her outstretched legs. Her hands gripped the bottoms of her feet, pulling her upper body more fully into the stretch.

"Big Bad?" Faith pulled off her boots and exchanged them for a pair of martial arts shoes from the shoe rack by the door. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe there was Option Three for the evening. Maybe she and Buffy would hit the streets for a joint patrol. Option Three was Faith's choice.

Buffy didn't answer until she'd completed her stretch. "Let's spar first." Rolling backward, she tucked into a somersault and came to her feet. Faith never even saw the first punch. Or the four that followed.

She staggered backward and crashed into a weight bench. "B…" Buffy hit her again, cutting off her comment. Shit. Was Buffy going to finish the job she'd started the week before when she'd found out about Faith and Xander. A kernel of self-preservation pushed Faith to her feet. Partially blocking Buffy's next blow, Faith managed to strike back.

They weren't sparring. This was an all-out brawl. Blood dripped into Faith's eye from a cut on her forehead. She swiped at it and ducked under a wild haymaker. The move left Buffy vulnerable; Faith used it to her advantage. Slamming her shoulder into the ribs under Buffy's outstretched arm, Faith drove her back into the mirror on the far wall.

Glass rained down around them.

"Good. Fight back," Buffy snarled. "It's no fun beating someone who just lays there."

"Look again, B." Faith was way past "laying there" for Buffy to beat on. "I've got _you _all wrapped up. Guess I'll be doing the beating." It was about time, too. With a grin of anticipation, she reared back and ploughed her right fist into Buffy's face.

Or…that was the plan. Buffy somehow escaped Faith's hold, and Faith's hand crashed through the mirror and lodged in the drywall behind. "Son of a bitch!" Now Faith was pissed. How did Buffy do that? Yanking her hand free, she spun – right into a brutal upper cut. Her head snapped back.

It was like fighting a ghost. Casper, the not-so-friendly ghost, with a wicked right hook. Faith did her best. She landed a few punches and kicks. Got in one really good knee shot that might have broken a few of Buffy's ribs. But she was definitely losing. Her left eye was swollen shut; her right ankle kept buckling after Buffy kicked it out from under her. There were glass shards embedded in her right hand and wrist from the mirror.

Faith refused to give up, though. Scrambling around the gym, she ducked and blocked when she could. Hit back when she saw an opening. Unfortunately, Faith didn't have a chance. Buffy overpowered her at every turn. Faith went down for the last time as Buffy unleashed a reverse crescent kick that caught Faith in the temple.

Her vision filled with black and gray dots, and the room swam. Faith barely felt the floor as she crashed down.

Buffy straddled her, hands on either side of Faith's head. "If you so much as _look _at Xander, you'll regret it. This will be like a sparring session with Giles; do you understand?"

"I didn't…did you…talk to Xan?" Faith mumbled. It hurt to move her jaw.

"Oh, I did, Faith. I talked to Xander for _hours_, and he told me everything." Leaning closer, Buffy stared into Faith's eyes. "He told me that you were trying to help him. That you _did _help him. It's the only reason I took it easy on you tonight."

Holy fuck! Buffy hadn't gone all out? Faith didn't want to think of what the fight might have been like if she had. "Got it, B. Xander's off limits. I won't even _think _about touching him."

"Then we're done." Buffy hopped up and held out a hand. "Get cleaned up. You're covered in blood and then come up to Giles' office. He's got information on some weird, sword-carrying vamp I met on patrol last night."


	12. Chapter 12

"Good Lord, Faith. What happened?" Giles came out from behind his desk as if shot from a cannon. "Sit down. Sit down. I'll summon Dr. Isaacs."

He might be a stickler for rules, but Giles was always quick to take care of injuries. Faith _did _sit down; although she waved Giles away from the phone. "Don't worry about it. I'm good." Or she would be. There was no way Faith was losing her chance to go out on patrol. "Just need some ice and Advil after patrol. Slayer healing'll take care of the rest. Me and B did some sparring. Guess I wasn't paying attention or something."

Giles actually _glared _at Buffy. "You did this?"

Casually taking the seat next to Faith, Buffy answered, "Yes." She waited a heartbeat, eyes locked with Giles'. Her stare was pure Dominant. A clear comment to let the situation go and to move on.

Proving he was strong-willed, Giles didn't immediately fold. "You assured me you understood what had happened, Buffy. I trusted you…"

"I told you I wouldn't hurt Faith. I didn't. Much." Faith might have disagreed with Buffy's statement; except she knew Buffy had been capable of far worse. "What do you have on the swordsman who attacked me last night? If we need to patrol together, it has to be soon. I promised Mom I'd be home early. I think she's afraid Xander will change his mind about the collaring ceremony and run while I'm gone. Apparently, it's no more than I deserve for making him wait this long."

With their sparring session firmly in mind, Faith held back a nod of agreement. If she nodded, Giles might really need to call a doctor. Or an ambulance. "What have you got, Giles?"

Returning to his seat behind the desk, Giles shuffled through some papers before holding up one of his dusty tomes. "I recognized your description of the swordsman, Buffy. He's a member of a vampire cult known as El Eliminati. It is a dueling cult founded in the fifteenth century. Deadly in their day, their numbers dwindled over time due to an increase in anti-vampire sentiment as well as an unfortunate tendency for pointless dueling."

Faith's eyes glazed over. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Who cared about this shit?

Not Buffy. She interrupted Giles' long-winded explanation. "I should be home with my sub, convincing him I really _do _love him and that he should start planning our collaring ceremony. Can you please get to the point?"

"Balthazar, the demon the Eliminati served, had an amulet. When Balthazar was killed, the amulet was taken by a local landowner. I don't want to bore you with the details," he added sarcastically.

"Too late," Faith and Buffy said at the same time.

Giles ripped off his glasses and threw them onto the desk. "Must you treat every new threat as a joke? The Eliminati may not be plentiful but they were purported to be very skilled swordsmen. I believe they are here looking for Balthazar's amulet."

The whole thing seemed simple enough. "We find the amulet, kill all the Illumination vamps, and get back in time for doughnuts." Faith summed up the situation. "Let's roll, B." Heading for the door, she noticed Buffy only a step behind. Nice. Even Buffy could take only so much "preparation."

"One moment," Giles called out.

With an impatient sigh, Faith stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

He met her eyes – and then remained silent long enough that Faith considered leaving. "It might be helpful to know where to look for Balthazar's amulet, don't you think?"

Giles was a pain in the ass. Faith scowled at his tiny smirk, refusing to respond.

"If we don't tell him he's a genius, Faith, he'll make us stand here all night." Buffy sounded resigned and just as frustrated as Faith felt. "Where do we find the amulet, Giles? Please tell us."

"The landowner who took the amulet was named Greaves. I checked various city and church records; he was buried in Sunnydale Cemetery." Giles sat back, apparently satisfied. "I suggest you take additional weapons in case the El Eliminati attack. Perhaps short swords and daggers?"

"You got it. All the hardware. Can we go now?" Faith asked. Why did he have to make every single patrol so difficult? Unless there were dozens of these Sword Guys, they were no match for her and Buffy together.

Before he answered, Buffy had already shoved Faith out the door. "God, he just goes on and on." Then she wrinkled her nose. "But he's probably right about grabbing more than stakes. No way do I want to fence with a tiny piece of wood." Leading the way to the weapons cage down the hall, she swiftly unlocked the door. "What do you think? Short sword and dagger, like the Watcher-man suggested? Or do you feel less clang-y and more pretty?" She grabbed a rapier and swished it through the air.

"Daggers." Faith was good with knives. Anything larger, though, and she was more at risk of cutting her own limbs off than beheading a vampire.

Tossing a pair of sheathed hunting daggers at Faith, Buffy then strapped one to her left thigh. Unlike Faith, she paired it with a more traditional short sword (all of four inches longer than the daggers). Stakes followed and were tucked away in pockets and boot sheaths. "Let's see. Two Slayers? Check. Metal and wooden pointy things? Check. Did I miss anything?"

Faith didn't care. She was ready to roll. Anticipation made her antsy and she bounced in place while Buffy locked up. They thundered down the stairs and out the door; by silent accord, they maintained their pell-mell pace all the way to Sunnydale Cemetery. When they reached the front gates, Buffy slowed, forcing Faith to follow suit.

"Got a plan? Or we gonna look at the stars?" Faith couldn't believe it.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. You think we don't need one."

"Sure, we need a plan," Faith answered. "The plan is, we go in, grab the necklace or whatever, and kill anything that gets in our way." Moving ahead of Buffy, Faith took a direct path toward the Greaves mausoleum. "You need to loosen up. You and me, we're Slayers, B. Giles can't understand that. He can preach about planning and research. We're all about the thrill of the kill."

"But not the thrill of _being _killed." Buffy grabbed the back of Faith's jacket and dragged her into the darker shadows of a tombstone. "Listen, Joan Wayne, going in with guns blazing sounds like fun – if we had guns. We don't. More than that, if the Eliminati beat us here, they are already in the crypt. Crypts have one entrance. That means we're sitting ducks as we try to go in after them."

She paused to give Faith a chance to think. And Faith did. "You're saying we can't charge through the door."

"I knew you weren't as stupid as you pretend." Buffy's grin didn't take much of the sting from her comment. "We have to sneak up on the mausoleum, see if the vamps are there. If they are, we wait for them to come out because…" She waited for Faith to fill in the blank.

"Because one entrance means one exit." Faith shoved Buffy away. "Geez, get with the program, B. We wait for the fuckers to come out and pick them off one at a time. Can't believe you were just gonna charge in and get us killed."

Out here, in the cemetery or anywhere on patrol, was one of the few places in Sunnydale Faith had ever really felt comfortable. It was also the one place she and Buffy weren't at odds. "Yeah, sorry about that, Faith. You know me. I'm all about the action, you know?" It was nearly a direct quote from something Faith had told Buffy weeks ago.

"Shut the fuck up, B. Let's just do this already." With a grin, Faith stayed safely behind more tombstones as they zigged and zagged their way to the mausoleum. The coast appeared clear, but Faith felt vampires nearby. "Feel 'em?" she whispered.

"Yeah." Eyes narrowed, Buffy visually searched the area. "I don't see them, though. Let's get a little closer."

Apparently, Buffy actually meant "right on top of the crypt." Faith followed as Buffy crept right up to the Greaves' crypt entryway. Every slow step drove the itching/tingling warning for vampires higher. "Inside?"

"Must be," Buffy responded. "Get ready. I hear movement."

This close, so did Faith. The vampires weren't attempting to be quiet. Once the shuffling started, it soon turned to the stamp of many feet. She drew both hunting daggers and crouched to one side of the entrance.

When the first vampire stepped outside, the battle was on. Faith concentrated on disabling and disarming. Her choice of weapon made beheading not impossible, yet very difficult. She left that for Buffy. She stabbed the first vampire in the chest before he knew she was there. He immediately dropped, and Faith left him on the ground.

Ducking the sword her second victim managed to draw and swing, Faith sliced and diced him as Buffy neatly removed Head Number One from the vampire on the ground. Head Number Two followed as Faith stepped out of the way to allow Buffy access to her current opponent.

The plan broke down from there. The rest of the vampire crew rushed the entrance, knocking Faith and Buffy back far enough that they escaped the bottleneck – and the crypt. Vampires poured from the mausoleum. Faith regretted her not adding something longer and heavier to her arsenal. The daggers were fine for close-in point work. But blocking full-force swords strikes? Really not recommended by the blacksmith. She felt the blades shudder under each blow. They wouldn't last long at this rate.

"Need to end this, B!" she shouted over the sounds of battle. Luckily, the prize was in site. It dangled from the belt of the vampire in front of her. The vampire bared his teeth at her and swung low. His partner in crime slashed at her head.

Only a Slayer could have avoided the joint attack. And Faith was a Slayer. Grinning madly, she jumped and tucked her feet up at the same time she ducked her head. The blades whistled in empty air - and then their owners were on the ground with fresh stab wounds. Faith used their distraction to take out another vampire.

The crowds were finally thinning. Buffy had created a cloud of dust with her short swords As Faith watched, she ran toward the crypt wall, using it as a springboard for a back flip. The vampires stared in confusion for half a second before Buffy cleanly removed their heads. More dust puffed up and their robes dropped to the ground. Only the two taking up space in the grass remained.

"Not much of a fight. I guess expert duelers make lousy fighters." Buffy covered a fake yawn. "I'm bored. You?"

"Hell, yeah. I thought Giles' said we needed to worry about these guys. You pack a better punch, Princess," Faith responded. She gingerly touched the bruises on her face and winked at Buffy. "Give me a sec to grab the necklace for Giles. Then they're all yours." Slicing through the amulet's chain where it was wrapped around the vampire's belt, Faith took the amulet.

Two quick sword swipes later, all the vampires were gone. "Let's roll. I want to have time to...chat with Xan after Giles does his next lecture." Buffy headed out at a sprint.

Faith started to follow and then stopped. She felt another vampire in the area. Pretending search for something in the grass, she scanned the cemetery. Nothing moved yet Faith's skin still tingled. Another one of the Eliminati? Or another vampire who happened to be in the area? After a few minutes, though, the tingle faded. Faith took one last look around and then ran after Buffy.

* * *

Giles peered at the amulet. "Well, it isn't quite what I expected. However, I do believe it is the genuine artifact."

"Great. Hate to think me and B fought all those vamps for a fake." Leaning back in her chair, Faith watched Giles carefully scrape at the dirt encrusting the amulet. "What does it do?"

"The original accounts suggest it provided the wearer, the demon Balthazar, with great strength." Giles finally gave up on cleaning the amulet and placed it in a velvet-lined lock box. "I am working with several of the Council's confidential informants to determine why the El Eliminati attempted to reclaim it."

That wasn't hard to figure out. "Bet they want to recharge their boss and end the world. Too bad me and B are on the case." Just another day in the life of a Slayer, Faith thought with satisfaction. Her muscles hummed from the fight, and it would be a long time before she was anywhere near ready to sleep. Sparring was out unless Giles had cleaned up the gym - which was unlikely since he hadn't yet lectured (again) on the expense of repairing and replacing the equipment and mirror. Maybe a late night swim...

"It is a definite possibility. I have a meeting scheduled for early in the morning. Please do not be late for our pre-patrol briefing tomorrow. Buffy will be joining us as well." Giles said sternly. "If there is a new demon in town, I will send both of you in pursuit. You did an excellent job tonight, Faith. I'm very pleased."

"Sweet." Faith grinned at him. "Thanks, G-man." Hopping up, she stretched. "We done? I'm gonna hit the pool for a while."

He nodded and gestured at the door. "Indeed. We are finished for tonight. Do not stay up too late, my dear. I have your appointment with the Mayor on the scheduled on the calendar for tomorrow. I would not wish you to be fatigued for that."

No. Neither would Faith. Maybe she'd swim a few laps and then crawl into bed. It wouldn't kill her to get a little extra sleep.

* * *

"You survived," Brian congratulated Tara.

She had. However, Tara was shaking and drained as she sat down at the table and sipped at the watered-down soda he'd ordered for her.

Brian didn't press for a response. He simply kept her company as she pulled herself together. "I was surprised with your choice. That pretty boy was all ready and waiting for you. The girl? This isn't her first time here; she's refused several experienced Dominants," he finally said. There was no judgment in his comment.

Why had she chosen Mari? Tara's memory of her walk to the Sub Station was fuzzy. "I think...she needed me." The boy hadn't. He'd wanted a play partner; Mari had needed a Dominant. Tara had been drawn to that. To Mari's need and her vulnerability. Her lips curled in a soft smile in remembrance of the way Mari had opened up to her. The way she'd responded to Tara's gentle encouragement and praise.

Of course, Brian noticed her reaction. "That's your trigger, isn't it, Tar? It's hard to resist the broken ones." Tilting her head, he observed her closely. "You seem very calm. And confident. It went well?"

"Eventually," Tara admitted. "I didn't know what to do or say at first. Then I just did." Even now, she couldn't explain it. Once Mari had knelt at her feet and relaxed, Tara had begun quizzing her. General questions. Had she been to the bar before? How long she'd lived in Sunnydale? How long had she been bonded? Tara had been about to admit she was recently bonded when she'd noticed that Mari's relaxation had disappeared with talk of her Dominant.

From there... Well, the questions and correct actions had just been there in Tara's mind. Instinct? Maybe. Whatever had guided her, Tara had needed to take care of Mari. She'd needed to see her smile, needed to watch her soften and relax against her. She'd needed know that she'd been there for Mari.

And Tara had answered the most important question of all. She _could _Dominate someone. All she needed to do now was fully connect with her submissive.


	13. Chapter 13

Tara sprinkled salt along the permanently-etched circle on the floor of the Magical Workroom. Sunlight sparkled on the energy beginning to fill the room, waiting for her to shape it. Smiling at the warm caress of power, Tara completed her task and drew in a deep breath. It had been too long since she'd shared this feeling with anyone.

_"Close your eyes and just feel, baby. It's there." Tara's mother waved a hand at the air. "Don't be afraid."_

Determined to find whatever her mother said was out there, Tara closed her eyes. Nothing. There was nothing. Her eyes popped open - and met her mother's amused gaze. She flushed. "I can't f-feel anything," she mumbled.

"You didn't really try." Reaching out, her mother patted her hand. "Try again, only this time, reach out with your mind. Imagine an invisible hand, reaching out, away from your body." Her hand squeezed Tara's one last time. "What do you feel?"

Closing her eyes again, Tara tried to calm her thoughts. Meditation had been her first real "magic" lesson. Slowly, the deep breathing worked. Tara's mind stilled. The remaining thoughts drifted lazily through her mind without demanding attention. That's when Tara extended her mental hand. It wasn't perfect. She glimpsed holes and thinning spots in the hand. But it worked. The hand tingled as she reached out. Tingled and grew warm as something soft and ephemeral wrapped around it. "I got it, Mama!"

Tara exhaled, and the memory faded. The memory, but not the warmth. She wrapped herself in the comfort of the magical energy before pushing it out toward the Circle. Reaching the protective salt barrier, it fused with the granules coating the ring of black tiles on the floor. With a bright flash, the power exploded up to the ceiling and locked into place against the matching black tiles there.

The Circle was complete. Tara sat Indian-style on the floor and waited for her audience to speak.

She didn't wait long. "You do that formal casting before every spell?" Janna asked.

The question shouldn't have been a surprise. Janna's impatience had been clear from the way she'd repeatedly shifted from foot to foot as Tara cast the Circle. "Yes. It's the only way I know to keep any darker energy from slipping into the spell. Every time you pull in power, whether from natural elements or a ley line, you risk accidentally pulling in dark magic. You open a door inside your mind, Janna, and you definitely want to make sure only the invited guests can come to the party."

"I used to do something similar. Less elaborate, but similar. Formal Magick is a required part of the Council 'interview' process." For an experienced witch, Janna looked amazingly like a child expecting a reprimand. "Then Will showed me a way to manipulate energy directly from the ley lines and fuse it into a shield. It's fast and doesn't require any supplies - which comes in handy out in the field." Her smile was wry. "We've become what Althenea disparagingly calls an American coven. I'm afraid she doesn't think much of either me or Willow."

Interesting. Why didn't they simply send a more traditionally-trained witch to Sunnydale, in that case? And were they teaching new, less skilled witches that same technique? The risk inherent in that caused Tara to shudder. She held her tongue, though, not wanting to insult Janna. "I'm sure you and Willow do fine, Janna." Remembering Xander's story about his chick magnet days, she added, "Willow sounds very powerful."

"Go ahead and say it, Tara. She's dangerous." There was both pride and frustration in Janna's comment.

"Well, Xander did mention a few magical miscues. I don't know that she's dangerous," Tara said carefully. She didn't have the right - or the authority - to comment on Willow's skills. She'd never seen her cast a spell. "Besides, there isn't One True Way when it comes to magic. My mother learned from her mother who learned from her mother. None of them belonged to a Coven or had any formal training. It was all handed down. What makes that better than someone who picks up a book written by a respected witch? Or a witch who spends years apprenticed to a traditional Coven?" If that last was the only option, and the Coven was Althenea's, Tara might start cutting corners and teaching herself, too.

A smile rewarded Tara's answer. "Thank you. I know you're right, but we've dealt with a lot of naysayers. The Slayers' Council has forged very strong ties with large Covens in Europe. It's much harder here. Not just in Sunnydale. There are only a few Council facilities with those kinds of mystical resources anywhere in the US. In the perfect little world I've imagined in my head, we're going to change all that. Instead of training and releasing new witches, I'd like to offer them jobs as teachers, researchers, even Watchers. Create an in-house Coven."

Until this moment, that's what Tara thought already happened. "Even in Europe, the Covens don't operate inside the Council headquarters or Houses?" What if a Slayer needed help?

"Not a full Coven. The largest Slayer facility, the international headquarters in Scotland has a team of five witches. The rest of us, though, have teams of two or three. Or one, like here." Janna finally sat down, legs outstretched as she leaned back on her hands. "Willow's unofficially a member of my team. Despite the fact she could run magical rings around me, the Council hasn't granted her full status. She'll have to complete their Trial, if she even wants to. Willow's got other talents, too."

If Willow was as powerful as she seemed, there was no choice, in Tara's opinion. The Trial would prove Willow had mastered basic control of her powers. Willow _had _to finish her magical studies and she would have to practice at least protective magic for the rest of her life. She'd be a magical beacon for Black Magic practitioners and other dark forces without constant wards and vigilance. Changing the subject before she and Janna ended in a drawn-out debate over magical training and responsibilities, Tara followed Janna's line of conversation. "Really? What else does Willow do?"

The leading question worked as well on Janna as it normally did on Trish. Apparently, all Dominants could be distracted with questions about their submissive. Janna lit up the Workroom with her smile. "She's a genius with computers. She's a genius, period. If Sunnydale wasn't such a backward pit of no opportunity, Will would have already graduated from high school. She's completed all of her class work and actually teaches computer classes since the last computer teacher disappeared." Tara was envious of Janna's soft expression as she continued. "Willow's already started taking classes at UC-Sunnydale, too. She turned down early admission to universities all over the world because I was assigned here and she didn't want to leave Buffy and Xander without backup."

"You weren't enough of a reason?" Tara teased gently.

"Absolutely not." There was no hint of doubt or jealousy in Janna's answer. "Now, I've let you control this conversation long enough. It's time for you to do some talking, Ms. Maclay. A hereditary witch who just happened to end up on a Hellmouth _and _somehow wrangled an invitation to a Slayer's Social. And Althenea chatted with you, too." One eyebrow rose. "It sounds like Fate to me."

Fate. Tara didn't want to think about that. Or did she? The new cuff on her wrist was a gift from Fate. "You're saying I'm stuck on the mouth of Hell and that I might as well throw in with you and Willow?"

"It does sound daunting when you put it that way." Janna's smile was wicked. "When can I expect you to fill out the application and take your own Trial?"

She'd been outmaneuvered by a master. Tara watched Janna watch her. "I'm not really looking for a job."

"You wouldn't have to do a lot of patrolling or field work. And I'm very flexible when it comes to the teaching schedule." Janna wasn't going to back down. "Besides, I'm sure you're wondering how to support your new submissive. The Council has a very competitive benefits package."

Tara automatically reached for her marker.

"Really, Tara? Did you really think another Dominant wouldn't notice?" Holding up her own arm, Janna displayed the black leather cuff with scrollwork matching the decorations on Willow's collar. "Just think about it."

"You're evil," Tara said, pointing at Janna. There was no way Tara would _not _be able to think about Janna's offer. If only publicly practicing magic wouldn't paint a target on her back. "I'll think about it. Until I make up my mind, though, stop tormenting me and get on with the magic. I want to see this lesson you're so worried about."

* * *

"Faith! Faith, wait!" Turning, Faith spotted Willow pelting down the stairs. Wasn't Friday an early release day for Willow? With a sigh, she leaned against a locker and looked at her watch. Willow had exactly five minutes before Faith had to leave. "I'm so glad I caught you. Giles had me doing some research on the demon Balthazar and that amulet you and Buffy got last night. You know how Giles said he was dead? I think he's wrong. I think Balthazar's in Sunnydale."

It took a minute for Faith to unravel the tangled babble of information. "OK," she said when she had it all figured out. "Thanks. I gotta jet."

"Faith!" Willow grabbed her arm. "Balthazar's not dead!"

"Yeah, you said that the first time." Faith easily freed her arm and glanced at her watch again. "That all? 'Cause I got a thing to go to." For some reason, she didn't want to talk about her upcoming visit with the Mayor. Willow would probably think she was stupid for being so excited (and nervous) about seeing him again.

With a frown, Willow took a step back and examined Faith. "Wow. You're all dressed up. What thing are you going to?"

Just fucking great. Willow always needed to know everything. "Can we do this later? I got to go."

"Sure. I mean, yeah. We can talk later. I didn't…Sorry, Faith." Willow bit her lip, a sign she was about to go off the deep end. "Is everything alright? I've never seen you like this. Not that you don't look nice all the time. You do! But…" Slapping a hand over her own mouth, Willow stemmed the tide of words.

Were they finished? Faith took a cautious step backward, eyes still on Willow. Just in case.

It was a good thing. Willow's hand dropped. "I'll give Giles the details on Balthazar, and he can fill you in at the briefing. I'm sure you and Buffy will be on demon destruction duty in the warehouse district tonight."

Faith continued to inch toward the main doors. Eventually, even Willow would get the hint. "That's what we do. Kill demons," she agreed. In fact, she usually enjoyed it. But right now, she really wanted to leave.

"Faith?" Willow was courting death.

"What?" Faith snapped.

Recoiling a little at Faith's response, Willow nevertheless kept talking. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. About what I said at lunch last Monday. I should have apologized sooner." Her eyes avoided Faith's, her guilt was clear. "I didn't mean it; you just made me mad and I said it without thinking. The Council was wrong, Faith; you didn't deserve what…whatever they did to you."

No way could Willow know the details. Unless she'd been a witness. Stomach churning, Faith stared mutely at Willow. Of course, she hadn't deserved the punishment. But how did Willow know anything about it? Faith wasn't going to ask. If she knew for sure Willow had been in the audience… Cold sweat broke out all over her body. No. Nonononono.

Willow must have seen Faith's reaction. "No one told me anything, Faith, I swear!" So she hadn't been a witness. A little of Faith's panic eased. "In fact, Janna didn't talk to me for hours afterward. She even shut me out of the link. But she _cried _when we got home. When she fell asleep and the barrier dropped," Willow seemed on the edge of tears herself, "she was so mad, Faith. Mad at herself and sad."

Faith wasn't listening to this anymore. She didn't want to hear how Janna felt about her role in the punishment. Throat burning and chest tight, Faith took another step back. "I've got to go," she said, voice squeaking. "I don't want to be late." With no thought to dignity or reputation, she turned and ran.

Most of the other students were long gone so Faith's path was clear. She exploded through the main doors – and stopped immediately. A small crowd encircled a shiny limousine idling at the curb. Who drove a limo to a high school? Faith snorted. Probably that troll Snyder. Well, Faith didn't have time to gape like the rest of the idiots. She was going to have to run to make it to City Hall anywhere close to on time.

Faith started down the stairs when the back window of the limo slid down. "Faith! There you are. Hop in!" The Mayor waved cheerfully at her from the inside the vehicle. As he spoke, the driver got out of the car and came around to open the door.

It was like a dream. Except Faith had _never _imagined sliding into a limo as a uniformed driver held the door. "Thought I was meeting you at your place," she said to cover her confusion and unease with the luxury the Mayor had provided.

"I couldn't let my favorite Slayer walk all that way." The door closed and the Mayor leaned back in his seat, arms outstretched along the entire length. "The car's a perk of the office, Faith. Why shouldn't I share it with the person who keeps my city safe?"

"Wicked." Copying the Mayor's pose, Faith leaned back and examined the roomy interior. Everything, right down to the door locks, was so shiny it sparkled. "You take this thing everywhere?"

"Only for VIP visits. Remember, I'm a simple man who happens to be the Mayor. I prefer to walk and enjoy the sights and sounds. Talk to people." The Mayor leaned forward and pressed a button on a console. A cabinet Faith hadn't noticed slid open. "How about a soda? I know it isn't good for you, but one won't hurt. Go ahead. I had it stocked last night."

Stocked was right. Faith grabbed an ice cold Coke and popped the top. "Thank you, Sir."

"Now, now. None of that. I'm Richard, remember?" The Mayor chose a bottled water and closed the cabinet. "How have you been, Faith? I worried about you after I left you at the Slayer House. That other Slayer Mr. Giles mentioned. The one making trouble for you. Is she still bothering you?"

"Buffy?" Faith shook her head. "Nah, we're good."

Richard frowned. "Are you sure? I may only be the Mayor of a small town, but I'm sure I could talk to the Council on your behalf. The thought of Buffy making you unhappy… Well, it makes me unhappy, Faith."

He was funny. Funny and nice. No one had ever truly cared about her before. "I'm fine; I promise," Faith responded. She couldn't stop smiling. "We talked it out last night."

Seemingly not convinced, Richard watched Faith closely. "You do seem less stressed today. Not a hint of a scowl in sight." Then, with a lightening change in mood, he was all smiles again. "What should we do first? My office? A tour of City Hall? Meet some of my staff – who are positively giddy with the thought of talking to you? Did you know most of them have never talked to a Slayer?"

"Ain't a surprise." Faith swigged her Coke and then saluted Richard with the can. "We hang out in cemeteries with dead things. Unless you got some real weirdos or vampires workin' for you, not a lot of chances to chat."

A small tic near Richard's eye sprang to life. "Very true. I hadn't thought of it like that." Conversation lagged while Richard drank his water and fussed with his tie.

Faith shifted nervously. Had she offended the Mayor? Maybe Giles was right. She didn't know how to act with someone this important. Shoulders hunching, she glowered at the sweating Coke can.

"Speaking of cemeteries and the things living in them," Richard said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "did you get those terrible bruises on patrol?"

Faith automatically touched the lingering tenderness on her face. "Me and B took on a group of vamps last night." It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't a true answer to his question. The vampires hadn't gotten a hand on her. Buffy, though, had gotten both hands and feet all over Faith. "Some guys with swords hunting an amulet."

"Swords?" Richard leaned forward as the limo slowed and then stopped. "That's interesting."

The door opened and a man held out a hand to Faith. Holding in a chuckle (who needed help getting out of a car?), she slid across the seat on her own and exited onto the sidewalk in front of City Hall. "Thanks," she told the young man who'd "helped" her.

"You're welcome, ma'am." With a respectful half-bow, he ushered her to one side and assisted the Mayor from the car.

"Tell me more about these sword swinging vampires," Richard said. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her up the front steps. "That's unusual, isn't it? I thought vampires didn't carry weapons. Sort of low class demons, aren't they?"

Faith didn't know. She zoned out during lectures. The only important thing was how to kill a demon. "I guess." Two men in matching dark suits and red ties waited at the top of the stone steps. They opened the door as Richard and Faith neared the top. "It don't really matter. They're dead; Giles has the amulet, and the demon they worked for is holed up in the warehouse district. Me and B have a date with him tonight."

"You be careful, Faith. I'd be heartbroken if something bad happened to you." He used the arm around her shoulders to pull her into a one-armed hug.


	14. Chapter 14

Bursting into the Slayer House, Faith took the stairs three at a time. She needed to burn some energy. Her muscles twitched in anticipation. A few rounds with the heavy bag…was impossible. Her rapid strides halted on the threshold of the second-floor gym. The glass shards were absent, as were the remains of the weight bench that had been smashed the night before. All of the other equipment and weapons were missing, too.

The gym was empty.

Apparently, Giles hadn't been joking when he'd threatened to get rid of the workout area if Faith and Buffy couldn't refrain from "destructive high jinks." That sucked. If she didn't find a way to unwind, Faith might explode.

Running was out. The pre-patrol briefing was only a couple of hours away. That didn't leave enough time to change, really get into a groove, and still have time for a shower and dinner. Not Tai Chi, either. Faith _hated _Tai Chi. Even if she (finally) managed to relax enough to get the movements right, it was way too non-aggressive to deal with her adrenaline rush.

Faith grabbed a towel from the hall closet and returned to the first floor. A few laps in the pool would have to do. Afternoon sunlight sparkled off the water as Faith stripped to bra and briefs. No more skinny-dipping after Giles' near coronary when he'd glimpsed her swimming from his office window. That shade of red on a human face had scared even Faith into submission.

Cutting easily through the water, Faith set a comfortable pace back and forth across the pool. Hmmm. This had been the perfect plan. The water enveloped Faith, blocking out all other sights and sounds.

"_You know, Faith, I was serious." Opening a door at the back of his massive office, Richard waved her forward. _

_Faith stepped into a smaller office. It was bare except for the usual desk, chair, and filing cabinets. But it made up for the boring décor with one entire wall of windows. Wandering over, she peered at the perfectly groomed garden below. Faith would never admit it out loud. Not to anyone. _

_She loved flowers. She could spend hours here, simply looking out the window._

"_I need someone with your talents," Richard said softly. He stood behind her, far enough away not to infringe on Faith's personal space. "This town. I love it. It's in my blood. But it's grown into a very scary place. I'm sure you've noticed the police force…"_

_Oh, yeah. Faith stretched out a hand and set it lightly against the window. She could stand here all day. "They suck," she said bluntly. _

"_Exactly. I need the people of Sunnydale to feel safe, Faith. They don't feel safe right now. That's where you come in." Richard moved to stand at her side, watching her and not the scenery. "Leave the Council. Let this other Slayer, this Buffy, put up with their outdated thinking and rules. I want you to work for me. This would be your office. You'd help train my personal bodyguards and work with the police to get us some good officers. You're an expert, Faith. We need you. __**I **__need you." _

With one last kick, Faith reached for the pool deck and hauled herself out of the water. Her heart beat rapidly from the exercise. The buzz of energy was still there. In fact, despite the lingering heat of the evening, she was so wired her skin tingled and goose bumps pimpled her arms. If Balthazar didn't have an army for Faith to kill, she'd have to risk breaking more Council rules and hit a bar. Booze and a good fuck were her last resorts when the restlessness got out of hand.

Faith wrung out her hair and wrapped up in her towel.

* * *

Tara yawned and took another sip of ginger tea. It had been so freeing to finally, openly, perform magic that she'd forgotten the mind had muscles just like the body. By the time she'd lowered the warding in the Work Room, a blinding reaction headache had been waiting. Janna had been nice enough not to laugh and to find her a quiet, shaded table on the patio.

She'd have to leave soon. It was getting dark, and she'd promised Trish the chance to grill her about yesterday's trip to the club. That should be fun. Maybe Tara could simply hide here forever.

Unfortunately, her hiding place wasn't as secluded as Tara thought. Wrapped in a towel, Faith walked into view. She stopped the second she saw Tara. "Sorry. Didn't know you were here."

It was clear she had wanted to hide, too. Tara saw no reason they couldn't share the secluded spot. "Don't run away. There are two chairs. Sit down." Tara pointed to the other seat at the small table. "We can commune with Nature or contemplate the meaning of Life in silence. Together."

"Nah. You were here first. I'll head back…" Faith was already turning away.

Dear Goddess. Was Faith always this stubborn? "Faith," Tara said in exasperation, "sit down."

The emotion created an unintended snap to the comment, and Faith's turn became a three hundred sixty degree spin. "Yes, Ma'am." She sank into the chair and shook her head in confusion.

Tara nearly mimicked the gesture. What was she doing? Less than a week with a partial bond, and she was lording it over poor Faith. "You were looking for some peace and quiet, and I was trespassing on your spot, wasn't I? If anyone should leave, it should be me," Tara offered. Picking up her mug and book bag, she started to stand.

"Don't." Faith reached out and stopped short of actually touching Tara's hand. "We can share the table. Ain't like you're Red and gonna talk my ear off."

It was a strange sort of compliment, yet Tara beamed at Faith. Without commenting. After all, she wasn't going to be like Red (who she assumed was the ever-talkative Willow) and ruin the mood.

Closing her eyes, Tara gave Faith the illusion of privacy. It also provided some much-needed headache relief for Tara. Without the glare of the sun, the pounding in her temples eased. She sighed and rolled her neck. The muscles, which had begun to resemble taut cables, stretched and released. Excellent. As the pain faded, Tara let the soft rustle of leaves and the sleepy chirping of the birds send her into a light trance.

A sense of well-being infused her. She'd never felt so strong, so confident, so unbelievably powerful. It was as if she'd swallowed the final rays of sunlight. Tara shivered as warmth blossomed from her chest to her fingers and toes. Even her hair tingled.

Slowly, the feeling ebbed. Tara reluctantly opened her eyes. It was full dark now. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, and her stomach growled.

Wait. That wasn't _her _stomach. "Eh, been a while since lunch." Faith, who'd been sprawled, boneless, in her chair, blinked sleepily. "Guess I fell asleep." A massive yawn caused her jaw to crack.

"You must have needed the nap, sweetie," Tara said softly. A grin snuck out as Faith's stomach growled an even louder protest. "And now you need some dinner, before that _thing _decides I'd make a good snack."

Faith chuckled, and Tara glimpsed a pair of killer dimples. "I got more self control than that. Could probably make it to the kitchen without more than nibbling on your arm." She stood and stretched,

The move reminded Tara that Faith was dressed only in her underwear. Tanned skin and rippling muscles displayed for a long moment before the towel was back in place. Tara swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. "Good," she choked out. "I like my arms without teeth marks. It makes it easier to roll my sleeves up in the summertime." Dear Goddess, Tara thought. She sounded like an idiot. Her face burned from the heat of her blush.

"Guess I gotta head inside then. I don't want you to have to be all buttoned up." Faith gave Tara a slow once over. "Be a shame if that happened." She might have said more but her gaze stopped when Faith glimpsed Tara's marker. "Oh, hey. Didn't mean nothin.'" Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, she mumbled, "Crossed enough lines for one week."

Tara responded instantly to the sudden self-loathing in Faith's voice. "You didn't cross any lines, sweetie." Her smile was meant to reassure Faith and to reestablish their teasing mood. "And if you did, I jumped right over them with you. I wasn't insulted and I'm not angry." She stood, too, and began to clear up the remains of her tea. "Come on. I'll escort you into the kitchen. If you don't eat me between here and there, I'll know you believe that you did nothing wrong."

Frowning, Faith regarded Tara as if she wasn't ready to trust her.

"I promise I'm not mad, Faith." Holding out her hand, Tara waited. She was determined to stay frozen in place until Faith believed her. Luckily, Tara was patient because she had to wait several minutes.

Faith finally heaved a dramatic sigh and hesitantly took Tara's hand.

"Thank you." Somehow, Tara knew she'd accomplished a miracle in earning this much trust from the prickly Faith. "Dinner is this way, Slayer." She started for the house, towing Faith along with her. "You know, if this Hungry Beast of yours comes around often, maybe you need something out of the ordinary. Maybe dinner out?"

"You askin' me out on a date?" Goddess, those dimples. "What would your sub say, huh?"

"I don't know," Tara answered truthfully. "We haven't really talked about it." Or anything else. "Does it have to be a date? I mean, friends go out together all the time." They made it to the kitchen, and Tara released Faith's hand. A shiver rippled through her and she absently rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm up. "Willow has my email if you ever need a friend, Faith."

* * *

"Ah, there you are!" Giles was in his usual place behind his desk when Faith walked into the office. "I thought perhaps I would need to deploy a search party to find you."

He was so not funny. "Mighta been a good idea. I ate so much I almost couldn't make it out of the kitchen." Faith rubbed her stomach ruefully. She'd been too nervous to do more than nibble at lunch, thanks to the meeting with the Mayor. By the time Tara had dropped her off by the refrigerator, Faith had been starving.

"Well, now that you have successfully maneuvered the staircase, perhaps we can concentrate on tonight's mission?" Giles gestured to the chair next to Buffy. "I asked Willow to research the amulet as well as the El Eliminati. Her findings were not what I had anticipated."

"Hey, I had an idea." Faith couldn't resist. "What if that Balthazar guy ain't really dead? Would he send the Sword Vamps out looking for his necklace?" It was a direct hit. Giles gaped at her, and Faith did her best to maintain an innocent expression. "It makes sense, Giles. The Eliminati guys decided out of the blue to steal the amulet from a dead guy? Why now? Only good explanation is they got marchin' orders from their boss."

Staring at her in bemusement, Giles said faintly, "Yes, that's what Willow believes as well."

"That's two votes for Breathing Balthazar. Where do Faith and I go to make sure Balthazar is really dead this time?" Buffy cut right to the chase. Either she'd begun channeling Faith's usual impatience or things with Xander were still eating away at her.

"Based on Willow's in-depth research of recent vampire activity, various witness statements filed with the Council switchboard..." Giles settled into his full-on lecture mode.

Faith tuned him out. She already knew they were headed to the warehouse district. She had more important things to worry about than listening to Giles explain every step in Willow's research process or why they should take extra precautions for this demon in particular. She had the Mayor's offer to consider. A non-Council job. Slayers weren't _required _to stay with the Council. They could, and did, fill other professions as long as they remained on the Council's reserve list. What would it be like to have an office? To have people who worked _for _her?

"Are you listening? Faith!" Giles' voice snapped Faith back to the present.

"Hard to sleep with you yelling," Faith responded automatically.

She scowled as his long-suffering sigh. "Tonight's mission is for information-gathering only. Although Willow is confident she has discovered Balthazar's location, there is nothing to explain his unexpected return to Sunnydale. Please refrain from your usual carnage and focus on finding answers." He pinned them both with a steely stare that would have been more effective if he hadn't tried it on two Slayers.

It wouldn't do to tell him that, though. Faith remained slumped in her chair. Buffy had to respond. She raised her right hand. "I solemnly swear that we will be carnage free unless there is a sale. In which case, there might be a small purchase made because you know I could never resist a bargain on the death and dismemberment."

Giles crumpled. "Go. Just… Please, go."

Faith was up and out the door before he could change his mind. They stopped at the weapons closet, and this time she didn't back away from the hardware. Short sword, daggers on both hips and in boot sheaths, and the usual collection of stakes. In case Balthazar had really come back to play, she looped a quiver of arrows across her back and grabbed a short bow. Giles might think Faith was too impatient for planning, but she wasn't taking any chances tonight. Superior firepower equaled more dead demons. "Let's find some facts, B."

"Facts are of the good," Buffy agreed. Fully armed, they left the House. Their destination was on the edge of town. Technology Park and the nearby manufacturing district housed dozens of deserted warehouses and storage facilities. It was Faith's least favorite place in Sunnydale. The dirty, vampire-infested buildings reminded her of the Boston docks. Gripping the shaft of her bow, she followed Buffy down Greenwalt to K Street.

"Feel it?" Buffy asked softly

Like a bolt of lightning to the gut. "Yeah." They were close. It was pitch black now. All the streetlights and security lights were out. Empty buildings closed in around them as they jogged down an alley. "I think Giles's fact finding thing is gonna be more vamp killing."

"Oops?" Buffy glanced over her shoulder at Faith, her lack of remorse evident.

Before Faith could reply, a pair of vampires stepped out of the shadows in front of Buffy. She immediately went on the offensive while Faith cursed and pulled an arrow from the quiver at her back. It was too dark. They were all too close.

The damned bow was less than useless. Tossing it aside, she ran to help Buffy. "I got the one on your left," she shouted. Buffy took a half-step to her right, giving Faith a clear path at "her" vampire. It turned to dust seconds later. Unlike the bow, the arrow made a perfect stake.

Buffy staked the other vampire. Unfortunately, there was no time to celebrate. More vampires poured into the alley. "You get the impression we may not have a chance to find Balthazar?" she asked Faith as the real fighting began.

Faith was too busy staking vampires to answer. Stab. Dust. Duck. Repeat. It was _awesome_. Riding the wave of adrenaline, Faith ignored the pain from a kick she hadn't blocked. The sting along her cheek from a cut.

Slaying. There was _nothing _like it. "We're winning, B!" Only a few vampires remained. Faith took out two more and the coast was clear. Buffy was still fighting. Faith could hear the battle behind her. Turning, she saw a vampire throw himself at Buffy's back.

Coward. Faith charged forward and grabbed his arm. A quick twist and he stared at her in shock until her stake lodged in his chest. The life faded from his eyes as blood rushed over her hands.


	15. Chapter 15

Tara woke all at once, muscles taut and senses screaming in fear. No. Nononononononono. The word repeated endlessly in her mind. Instinct drove her out of bed. She scrambled frantically for the bedroom door. She had to leave. Now. She had to run. Get away.

Her shaking hands fumbled with the doorknob. When Tara finally wrenched it open, she barked her shins as she tried to exit before it was fully open. The pain didn't matter. Tara was blind to anything except pure panic. By the time she reached the living room, she was running all out.

Running right into the coffee table. The clunky glass and metal table was a much more effective barrier than her bedroom door had been. With a cry of mingled pain and surprise, Tara fell forward onto the table. Luckily, the glass remained intact; although the screws holding the legs to the tabletop were torn out. Tara and the heavy glass dropped to the floor with a crash. Panting and biting her lip in pain, she took stock of the situation.

This was just like the coffee shop. Now that Tara was fully awake, she traced the alien emotions flooding her mind. Traced them _almost _back to the sender. But not quite. The bondlink was soft around the edges and so narrow in places Tara was afraid to push too hard.

"Tara!" Overhead lights blinked on and Trish rushed over while Maxie hovered in the hallway. "Oh my God! What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Tara pointed to the table. "I owe you a new coffee table, though. This one will never be the same." She limped the few steps toward the couch and sat down. The coffee table hadn't been the only casualty of the collision. Twin gashes marred both her shins. Blood trickled from the one on the left.

"Maxie." Tara had never heard that much command in Trish's voice. "Get the first aid kit and some ice." She sat next to Tara on the couch and took her hand. "You need to tell me what's going on. Why did you slaughter the table? What had it ever done to you?"

As usual, Tara responded, "I don't know." She watched Trish frown and shifted on the couch. "It's like the other night at the Pump." Only far worse. In the back of her mind, Tara _still _sensed her bondmate's terror. "I woke up scared out of my mind. Literally. My bondmate. The emotions were coming through the link."

"Didn't I tell you there was no way to find him or her?" Trish's voice held fond exasperation. "Were you going to run through town in your tank top and shorts?"

Through town all the way to anywhere else. Anywhere safer.

Maxie hurried back into the room and knelt at Tara's feet. With gentle touches, she wiped a washcloth over the cuts then dabbed antiseptic on them.

Hissing at the sting, Tara gripped the couch cushion tightly. She had to get a handle on the bond - and she had no idea how to do that. Tara wasn't even sure it was possible to force the bond wider, to reach through before it was fully formed. But Goddess, she was worried. In the two tiny glimpses she'd gotten through the link, her bondmate had been angry enough to kill and terrified. No one should live with that kind of continuing trauma. "I'm so sorry about waking you up. I'm really fine - especially after Maxie's nursing."

Maxie glowered at her. "You're sorry? Geez, Tara. You could have really hurt yourself if that glass had broken. We don't care about the damned table."

"What she said," Trish chimed in. "Only with a little more politeness and a whole lot less attitude."

Despite wincing and dropping her eyes, Maxie didn't appear ready to put her attitude away. It was sweet and yet it grated on Tara's already jangled nerves. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," Maxie mumbled. Then she ruined the grudging apology with, "I'd like to smack you upside the head. Who worries more about sleep or a table when a friend's in trouble?"

"Tara, are you sure you aren't hurt?" Trish moved closer and gripped the back of Maxie's collar in a clear warning to behave. "You look terrible. This is eating you up, isn't it?"

Absolutely. With a wan smile, Tara brushed off Trish's question. "There's nothing I can do until the bond is complete. As you pointed out, I don't know who my sub is. I don't know where they are." Tara didn't know anything and it was driving her crazy. Frustration made her want to scream and cry. Maybe throw a few things around the room. Yet all she could really do was sit on the couch and wait for Fate.

Tara hated Fate. Obviously, Fate hated Tara right back.

"Go on. Take Maxie to bed. I want to sit here for a while and think," she told Trish.

"If you're sure." Trish was too perceptive. She wasn't buying Tara's reassurances.

It was up to Tara to convince her. "Trish, there are so many things going on in my head. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. I need some time. I promise I'm not going to run through Sunnydale in sleep clothes. All I'm going to do is sit on the couch and think."

She glimpsed a hint of tears in Trish's eyes as she bent and gently kissed Tara's cheek. "You better be right here, thinking, when I get up later. Or I'll turn Maxie loose on you."

* * *

"Oh my God, Faith. He's human!" Buffy had a flair for stating the obvious. "We have to call the police." She wrenched Faith's bloody hands away from the man and gripped the stake embedded in his chest.

Call the police. Faith couldn't make sense of the words. A strange rushing sound filled her mind, keeping her from understanding Buffy's comment. It was suddenly stifling in the alley. She couldn't breathe. "B…" Faith's voice was a mere thread of sound.

"Faith!" The shout forced Faith's head up to meet Buffy's determined gaze. "Call. The. Police." No longer yelling, Buffy now spoke in a calm, soothing tone. "Your phone is in your front pocket. I saw you put it there. Take it out, Faith. Come on. Stay with me. Get your phone and dial 911."

She could do that. It just took so long to accomplish, Faith marveled. It seemed like years passed as she fished the phone from her jeans pocket and flipped it open. The keypad swam in and out of focus.

"911, Faith," Buffy repeated.

Blinking helped Faith bring the phone into focus. She punched the numbers as ordered.

"911, what is your emergency?" a new voice asked.

Now what? Staring helplessly at Buffy, Faith silently begged for help.

"Tell them what happened, Faith." Hands and clothes covered in blood, Buffy didn't move to take Faith's phone. "Hurry!" Some of her calm disappeared. Faith idly noticed how very pale Buffy appeared in the dark alley. Stark white against a black background.

"Caller, are you there? Caller?"

Faith shook her head to forcibly restart her brain. Alley. Vampires. They'd been fighting. Oh, fuck. She'd stabbed a man. She'd stabbed him and he was dying in Buffy's arms. "We were Slaying," she said into the phone. And just like that, words broke free and tumbled out.

Sirens echoed in the distance as the words finally dried up. "I think he's dying," Faith numbly told the dispatcher.

"Please remain at the scene. Units and emergency personnel have been routed to your position." The dispatcher was eerily calm. It was probably supposed to help keep callers from panicking. It had the opposite effect on Faith. The smooth, careful cadence reminded Faith of the kids she'd run the streets with in Boston. They'd used that same tone to lure unsuspecting strays up to them for whatever torment they had devised.

Taking several shaky steps away from Buffy and the man, Faith dropped the phone to the ground. Dimly, she heard the dispatcher's continued questions, muffled by the concrete. Buffy was focused on staunching the blood pouring from the man's chest. No one else would ever catch her.

She'd waited too long, though. Squad cars pulled into one end of the alley. An ambulance blocked the other. Cops, emergency responders, and lights in a kaleidoscope of colors surrounded Faith. It was too late. Faith was trapped.

"Slayer Lehane?" A female police officer approached. "If you could come with me, please. I need to take your statement about what happened tonight."

The same cop drove Faith and Buffy back to Slayer House. Actually, she wasn't just "a cop." Faith's interrogator had been the department's liaison to the Council.

"_What were you thinking when the vampires attacked?" Lieutenant Thomason gestured for Faith to precede her out of the alley, away from the body and the blood. _

_Thinking? "Me and B didn't think. Got an alley full of vampires, it's stakes out and full speed ahead." For a cop who dealt with Slayers, Thomason was clueless. "There wasn't time to think."_

_It was better once they skirted the cruisers taking up one end of the alley. Faith blinked, grateful for the lack of the blinding red, blue, and white lights. "I understand. I've experienced the same thing. You get in a jam; you react. I imagine it's tougher for you, though. Vampires are a lot faster than humans. And they don't care about taking your money or stealing your favorite pair of Air Jordans. They want to kill you."_

"_Yeah," Faith muttered. _

"_So explain to me how this went down. You're in the zone. Vampires all around." Thomason's attempt to stake an imaginary vampire caused Faith to snort. If she tried that move on a real vamp, she'd be dead. "Then another vamp jumps on Slayer Summers." Thomason stopped until Faith nodded. "I thought Slayers could sense if someone was a vampire? And I know they are stronger and faster. Why didn't you notice any of the differences between the other attackers and the Deputy Mayor? The man you killed. You were at City Hall earlier today. Did you meet him? Did he tell you he would be here tonight?"_

* * *

"Here you go." Thomason pulled up to the curb. "Home sweet home." She met Faith's eyes in the rear view mirror. "It's been a rough night, kid. Keep your chin up. I'll file my report, send it up my chain of command and to your Council before morning. If we're lucky, all you'll need to do is maybe answer a few more questions before getting on with your life."

"Thanks for everything," Buffy answered. She grabbed Faith's arm and dragged her out of the car. Her grip tightened painfully when Faith tried to jerk free. "Stop it!" she hissed as Thomason waved and put the car in gear.

Faith wasn't ready to listen. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Let me go." Buffy had been grimly silent since Faith had finished her interview with Thomason.

"Shut up and listen to me." Buffy rarely spoke to anyone with that level of Dominance – and it stopped Faith in her tracks. "I didn't want to say anything at the scene." She took a slow breath, expression fierce. "The Council sent a representative down from LA; that's why Giles wasn't with us for the questioning. The guy wouldn't let him leave the House."

The blood. The feel of flesh and bone under her stake. None of it had really registered for Faith.

This did.

She'd killed a man, and the Council had sent someone to Sunnydale.

This was it. Faith knew it. The Council was going to sentence her to the worst punishment in their arsenal: deactivation. They'd take away her Slayer powers, and Faith would go back to being just Faith. A nobody. A homeless, good for nothing, sometimes prostitute.

"I need you to listen to me, Faith," Buffy went on.

Why? It was too late. Faith's fear rose so high she grew lightheaded. But some other emotion uncoiled, too. Snaking through her, it pushed the fear out with slow, deliberate intent. Faith didn't need to be afraid. The Council was wrong about her. About everything. Killing that man in the alley had been an accident. Everyone knew accidents happened. Besides, the Deputy Mayor…

Some of Faith's righteous anger faded. Fear returned. The Deputy Mayor. He worked for Richard. Would _he _blame Faith? Or would he understand she hadn't meant to kill him?

Buffy shook Faith slightly. "When we go inside, you need to stay quiet. Don't say _anything_, OK? Giles and I have this covered. Just sit tight and let us handle this. We won't let the Council do anything to you. I was there, Faith. I know what happened. I thought the guy was a vamp, too, and you were only trying to save me."

Damn right.

"Do you understand? Can you not go off the deep end? Please?" Buffy pleaded with Faith.

Did she think Faith was stupid? Faith wasn't going to trust her future to either Buffy or Giles. The only person dealing with the Council would be her. It would have been a great plan, if she could have made her plan stick. Sadly, Buffy was not only stronger (with an established death grip on Faith's arm); she was also a Dominant with no compunction about forcing Faith to follow orders. As soon as Buffy sensed Faith's rebellious thoughts, she was all Domme. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

Pushing Faith in front of her, Buffy frog marched Faith toward the House. They'd almost reached the front door, despite Faith's dragging feet and struggles, when a van screeched to a halt in the street. A man and woman hopped out and a bright light spotlighted Faith and Buffy. "I'm Hannah Rizal from KCTC, News Channel Seven. Can you comment on the death of Deputy Mayor Allan Finch? Reports indicate that Slayer Lehane stabbed him during a fight?"

Buffy nearly picked Faith up and carried her the final few feet into the House. She slammed and locked the door behind them. She did not stop in the foyer as Faith expected, though. The forced march continued up three flights of stairs and past Giles' office. Buffy dragged Faith into the next room, a small sitting room Giles often used for sleeping if meetings ran late. "Since you won't cooperate, we'll do this the hard way."

Apparently, Giles did more in this room than sleep. And Buffy knew it. She quickly located wrist and ankle cuffs in a dresser drawer. In seconds, she had Faith on her knees. Clips bound each set of cuffs together. Adding insult to injury, Buffy then attached Faith's wrist cuffs to an eyebolt embedded in the floor with a short length of chain from the same drawer. "I'm sorry, Faith. But you have to trust us. We won't let the Council do anything to you." The door closed softly behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

The chain binding Faith's cuffs to the floor was too short for her to stand. She tried anyway and ended up in a very uncomfortable crouch. Damn Buffy! Yanking on the chain with all her strength did nothing, either. With a growl, Faith dropped back to her knees.

There had to be a way out of here. She didn't trust Buffy or Giles any farther than she could throw them at the moment. Considering Faith couldn't stand – and that her wrists were chained – throwing anything except curses was impossible.

In other words, she didn't trust Buffy or Giles at all.

Faith examined the room more closely. The nearby single bed was shoved into the corner. Dresser. Chest of drawers. That was it. Nothing else, unless you counted the eyebolt in the floor currently holding Faith prisoner, and the collection of other bolts mounted in various locations on the ceiling and the walls. Bars covered the tiny window, too. This room hadn't been intended as an occasional crash pad. It was a prison.

Yanking harder against the chain continued to be pointless. Faith felt bruises forming on her wrists despite the soft lining inside the cuffs. One last, full-strength tug…and Faith slumped on the floor in defeat. She was stuck here until Buffy came back. The thought triggered an immediate response; restless energy poured through Faith until her muscles jumped and twitched with the need to move. She shifted on her knees. Half rose until the chains halted her progress. Damn it! She had to get out of here…

_He was coming to her room again. Faith heard his footsteps, each heavy thud against the floor. His keys jangled in his pockets. Scrambling out of bed, she fumbled with the lock on her bedroom window._

_It wouldn't open! Faith banged at the slightly dented latch. She had to get out of here. She wasn't letting him touch her again. Never again. Her heartbeat increased with every step in the hallway. Faith was panting now. She had to get out, but the latch was stuck. Please, Faith begged silently. Please open. Her hands hurt from beating against the lock. _

"Over my dead body!" Buffy's strident shout, filtering through the wall, snapped Faith out of the memory. "You're crazy if you think…" The words faded away.

Wiping at the cold sweat on her forehead, Faith focused all her attention on listening. What had gotten Buffy so riled? She rarely lost her cool. For a long minute, there was nothing except silence from Giles' office.

Then a clipped voice murmured something Faith couldn't hear, even with enhanced senses.

"I will not permit anything of the sort." That was definitely Giles. Who was the other voice? "As I have repeatedly mentioned," Giles continued before the other voice interrupted.

"The Council clearly disagrees." The Council. The unfamiliar voice must be the Council representative from Los Angeles. "That is why I am here. Ms. Lehane…"

Faith nearly screamed when the voice suddenly faded. The man hadn't used her title. He hadn't called her _Slayer _Lehane. Was that significant? The chain rattled as Faith shifted uneasily. She'd known deactivation was a last-resort solution to an out of control Slayer. Until this moment, Faith hadn't believed the Council would seriously consider it for her. She wasn't out of control! She broke a few stupid rules: curfew, drinking, and skipping classes. Those weren't enough for the Council to take her permanently out of the game.

Except tonight hadn't been a broken rule. Faith had killed a human. What were they going to do to her?

The room next door erupted into shouts. Voices merged and blended so that Faith couldn't separate them. Finally, Giles bellowed, "Enough! I have had _quite _enough from both of you! Buffy," this was far quieter, although still loud enough for Faith to hear. Barely breathing, she leaned toward the wall as much as the chain allowed and strained her ears. "Please stop threatening Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. As amusing as it may be, it is not solving our current dilemma."

Buffy didn't respond, but Faith heard a dull thud followed by a cleared throat.

Mr. Wyndam-Pryce spoke next. He needed to be louder. The wall muffled everything but his disapproving tone. He must be related to Willow. He went on and on and on. After a few minutes, Faith grew impatient.

The chains hadn't loosened since the last time she'd yanked at them. Scowling, she carefully toppled onto her side. It was at least slightly more comfortable than kneeling on the hard floor. Voices rose and fell as sunlight brightened the room. Faith was helpless and trapped. Head pillowed awkwardly on her arms, she waited for the three people in the room next door to decide her fate.

* * *

Eyes gritty, Tara stared at the television. Leno had given way to "Pinky and the Brain" reruns and then more child-themed cartoons. It was all white noise as far as she was concerned. Although her bondmate's panic had faded, there was still a low level buzz in Tara's mind. The link was closed except for a tiny conduit leaking a trickle of emotion. She could easily have blocked the emotions. Bondmates were individuals, after all. The bond simply allowed them to share thoughts and feelings; when necessary, they could close the link temporarily.

She heard Trish and Maxie getting ready for the day. Normally, their routine was comforting. The low murmur of voices down the hallway. The sound of the shower. Today, it emphasized how alone Tara felt.

_"Why can't I into town like Donny, Mama?" Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, Tara glared out the window. The sun was shining. It shouldn't. It should be dark and rainy. And cold. "Everybody else goes places. They don't stay at home all the time." And everybody else had friends._

_With a warm laugh, Tara's mother hugged her close. "If you went somewhere, who would keep **me **__company, hmm? Who would help me bake cookies? Or make pancakes? And what about learning about the Goddess and magic? We only get to do that when Master and Donny are gone." She kissed Tara's cheek. "Now, stop frowning. What if your face froze like that?" She twisted her face into a terrible frown._

Tara didn't want to stop being angry. She hated being stuck on the farm. She wanted to play with girls her own age. "Can I at least invite someone to my birthday party?" She was turning seven in a week. "Please, Mama?"

"You still up?" Maxie wandered into the kitchen and flipped on the lights. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

Tara knew she was in trouble. It took every iota of self-control not to snap at Maxie. Of course she was still up. She was sitting on the couch, staring at the television. Did she look like she was sleeping? "A little," she lied softly. Maxie wasn't at fault; she didn't deserve Tara's wrath. Picking up the remote, she flicked through the channels. The new cartoons were just too weird to watch. "I've got a paper due next week. I'm heading to the library as soon as it opens. Then maybe I'll take a nap."

Trotting into the living room, Maxie set a plate with buttered toast and mug of coffee on the end table next to the Tara. She paused, watching Tara closely.

"I'm fine." Tara was getting better at lying. This one came out smoothly; she was even able to smile slightly. "You don't have to worry about me. Or take care of me." Picking up the toast, she took a bite. "But thank you for breakfast."

Maxie didn't move.

Deliberately glancing away, Tara watched a red "Breaking News" banner scroll across the television. What started as a way to avoid an uncomfortable conversation became a life-changing event.

The excited news anchor was replaced with a close-up camera shot of Sunnydale's Slayer House. "Early this morning, Sunnydale Police received reports that Deputy Mayor Allan Finch had been murdered. We're here at Slayer House where the suspected killer, Faith Lehane, had no comment." The scene changed yet again.

Tara watched a reporter rush up to Faith and Buffy as they climbed from a police cruiser. The footage must have been shot earlier because it was still dark. Buffy shielded Faith from the camera and the outthrust microphone. "I'm Hannah Rizal from KCTC, News Channel Seven. Can you comment on the death of Deputy Mayor Allan Finch? Reports indicate that Slayer Lehane stabbed him during a fight?"

Buffy kept her body between Faith and the reporter, hurrying her into the House.

As the news anchor returned, Tara turned up the volume. She didn't want to miss any of the story. Paying absolutely no attention to Maxie, who silently curled up on the couch next to her, Tara focused news report.

"At approximately one fifteen this morning, police received _this _911 call," a smiling newscaster announced. After a brief pause, Faith's strained voice poured through the living room.

"We were Slaying. Vamps. Maybe two dozen of them with swords." She sounded so young. Young and dazed and scared. Tara shuddered with the force of Faith's words as she continued. "One of them grabbed B, and I grabbed him back. Staked him. Only…he's bleeding. I think he's dying."

Faith's voice, even over the recording, pulled at Tara. Goddess, Faith was _so scared_. Tara needed to be there for her, had to help Faith.

"Wait. What time did they say the call came in?" Maxie leaned across Tara and stole the remote from the end table. Risking life and limb, she clicked through several other television stations until settling on one where the call recording had just begun.

Burying her face in her hands, Tara endured a repeat of Faith's dazed comments.

"Did you hear?" Maxie was oddly exuberant, and it fired Tara's anger.

"What, Max? Did I hear how scared Faith was? Did I hear she fought off a bunch of vampires in an alley?" Tara's voice rose with each word. She was peripherally aware of someone moving across the room.

Trish pulled Maxie off the couch and pushed her protectively behind her. "Stand down, Tar," she said warningly.

"No! Look." Ducking under Trish's arm, Maxie pointed at the television. "The guy said Faith called 911 at one fifteen." Her finger moved to where Tara had stacked the remains of the coffee table during her all-night vigil. "I didn't look at the clock when all the racket started, but…"

Oh, Goddess. Tara's knees turned to water and she collapsed back onto the couch. Maxie made sense. However, there was one big problem. "I can't feel her," she said. Hoping that had changed, Tara pushed through the bond - and ran smack dab into a mental barricade. She couldn't batter at the barrier. It might hurt Faith. Not to mention there was no proof that Faith was on the other side of the link. They had nothing more than circumstantial evidence that she and Tara were bonded.

Right on the heels of that thought, Trish said, "We don't know it's Faith, little girl. The bond isn't fully formed." She kissed Maxie's fierce frown. "I agree it fits last night's festivities. But what if we're wrong? Tara might focus on Faith and completely miss when her _real _bondmate reaches out."

Trish was absolutely correct. Yet, Tara didn't care. Somewhere deep inside, she knew Faith was her submissive. She knew it. Her lips curled. She'd hit the jackpot for bondmates. Sexy, strong, and stubborn. And the dimples. The room grew stifling as Tara remembered those dimples and Faith's warm brown eyes.

"I think you're too late with the warning." Maxie snickered. "Look at her. She's already imagining Faith on her knees."

"No, I'm not," Tara protested. She wasn't. Not quite. Although, the image _was _a good one, now that Maxie had put it out there. Then the vision changed. Faith wasn't collared and kneeling. She was standing over a faceless body in a dark alley, hands covered in blood. Tara stiffened. How could she have forgotten?

Guilt swamped her. Here she was, getting hot and bothered, when Faith was facing possible criminal charges. "Trish, can you find out what's the usual response to Slayers accidentally killing someone?" She was sure Faith hadn't meant to kill anyone except vampires. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't worried about what might happen. From what she'd witnessed on her first visit to the Slayer House, Faith had already been on the wrong side of Council regulations.

"Tar..." For once, Trish didn't appear ready to dive in and help.

"It's alright," Tara assured her; although the refusal hurt. "Don't worry about it."

Shaking her head, Trish said, "No. It's not alright, just not for the reason you think. Your bond with Faith isn't complete. No one knows about it except you. Well, and me and Maxie. If we start poking into Council law, someone's going to notice. This is a small town. There are only two Slayers. Do you really want to have reporters on the doorstep trying to figure out why you're interested in the case?"

"No." Goddess, no. If Faith didn't feel their bond then Faith wasn't _ready _for the bond. Tara met Trish's concerned gaze. She leaned back on the couch, mulling her options.

When the solution hit her, she wanted to bang her head against a wall. She was an idiot. Trish didn't have to hunt for the information in a public law library. Tara had actually toured a much more private, far more extensive source of Slayer law and lore: Mr. Giles' library in the Slayer House. All Tara had to do was find a legitimate reason for being there.


	17. Chapter 17

Faith's doze ended when the door swung open. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. You've got a date with destiny." She wasn't sure if Buffy was joking or not. It was hard to tell with the dark circles under Buffy's eyes and the dirt and blood dried on her face and neck.

Blood. The chains rattled as Faith stared at the dark stains on her own hands. How could she have…

"Don't." Bending down, Buffy roughly pulled Faith to her knees. "We don't have time – and I don't have the energy – to deal with one of your freak outs." She unlocked the chain and removed the cuffs around Faith's wrists and ankles.

Freaking out wasn't in Faith's plan. Somehow managing to get to her feet was a bigger priority. The nap, combined with the fight and the hard floor, had turned Faith's muscles into knots. Unhappy knots. With a wince, she climbed up using a hand on the bed and rotated her neck and shoulders. _Now _freaking out was an option. "Heard some of the shit next door," Faith announced. "The new guy wants to deactivate me, don't he?" She'd fight him. Fight them all. Keeping her voice level with effort, she continued. "I ain't going, Buffy. You know I didn't kill that guy on purpose." Trying not to be obvious, Faith scanned the room for potential weapons.

The chains were her best bet - if she could get to them first. Maybe the bed frame once it was broken apart. Other than that, though, Faith was on her own. Mano a mano with Buffy. Those were bad odds. Her breathing grew erratic, matching her heartbeat.

"It's not all about tonight," Buffy answered. "You do stupid things, Faith. A lot of stupid things, and I can't..." Turning away, Buffy trudged for the door. "Come on. Giles and the other Council member are waiting for us. They'll tell you what the Council's decided."

Faith didn't move. "Why can't you tell me?" They might not see eye to eye on everything, but she respected Buffy.

"Can't." Buffy didn't even turn around. "That's part of the deal. I have to let Watcher Wes tell you. He didn't think I would be stern enough." A tight laugh drifted over her shoulder as she walked into the hall. "Maybe he's right. You sure as Hell haven't listened to me any of the other times I've tried talking you off the ledge."

The words hit Faith like a well-thrown punch. "Talk me off the ledge?" she shot back. "There is no ledge, B. I ain't thinkin' about ending it all." She was so fucking tired of this shit. "You know what, Buffy? You and Giles act like the Council knows everything; like they got a right to make all the decisions for you. I don't! The rules don't matter. Slaying does." She deliberately echoed a comment Richard had made the night they met. "Sunnydale should be glad we're here. We're heroes. A night at the bar every once in a while ain't a big deal when I'm saving lives every fucking night."

She felt a surge of satisfaction when Buffy whipped around and got right in her face. Unfortunately, the good feelings didn't last. "You didn't save Allan Finch's life, did you? Or your Watcher's."

Faith saw red. "Saved your ass instead, Buffy. Remember that? Remember telling me you thought Finch was a vamp about to knife you?" There was no way she would ever discuss Diana with Buffy. Not in this lifetime or any other. She didn't register Buffy's flinch at her retort. "Whatever. I don't care what you or the fuckin' Council think."

"Keep that to yourself." Buffy shoved open the door to Giles' office and dragged Faith into the room with yet another death grip on her arm. Once they were inside, Buffy closed and locked the door. "Faith, you know Giles."

Duh. Now that the moment of truth was happening, Faith's anger wavered. Fear clawed at her chest. It got hard to breathe normally.

"And this is Mr. Wyndham-Pryce," Buffy continued, gesturing at the young man standing ramrod straight in front of Giles' desk. "He's been assisting at the Los Angeles Slayer Headquarters and has kindly driven down to speak with you."

Fear dug its nails right through Faith's heart. Buffy had her party manners on. Watcher Wes had to have a lot of juice with the Council. Buffy didn't bow and scrape for just anyone. Responding to Buffy's manners and Wyndham-Pryce's pinch-faced expression, Faith hid her need to run with a defiantly raised chin.

Her decision may not have been the best. Wyndham-Pryce's lips nearly disappeared as he pressed them together even tighter for an instant. "Slayer Lehane, I believe you know why you are here. However, to avoid any possible misunderstanding, allow me to read the full list of charges compiled by the governing members of the Council."

Faith locked her knees and crossed her arms over her chest. "I got a choice?" she asked. She could almost _hear _Buffy's teeth grinding at her attitude, and Giles immediately whipped off his glasses and began cleaning them. Faith didn't care.

"Absolutely not." Clearing his throat, Wyndham-Pryce brandished a leather portfolio and began to read. "This is a detailed report of rule infractions for one Faith Lehane."

Ignoring the shakes trying to take over her body, Faith strolled closer to the desk and sat down in the same chair she'd used for last night's briefing. Her feet found a comfortable spot next to Giles' nameplate.

"March 15, 1998: Refusal to attend Slayer Induction course at the Boston Slayer Headquarters." Watcher Wes had the most irritating voice ever. Nasal and whiny, with an added layer of innate superiority.

Not needing to hear the list of broken rules and episodes of insubordination in her file, Faith closed her eyes and tuned out The Voice.

Unfortunately, Wyndam-Pryce wouldn't accept such behavior. Knocking her feet to the floor, he waited until she sat up and met his eyes. "As I was saying, Ms. Dormer also indicated that Ms. Lehane snuck out of the Slayer Headquarters on no less than nine occasions."

He could make Faith keep her eyes open and her feet on the floor. He could _not _force her to listen. There were some interesting scratch marks on the top of Giles' desk. Fingernails? Did Lydia visit Giles during the day and put him through his paces? Faith stared at the marks and let her imagination run wild for a minute.

Even the lure of staid Giles bent over his own desk couldn't drown out Wyndam-Pryce's voice when he announced, "October 7, 1998, Ms. Lehane evaded a Retrieval Team after the death of Ms. Dormer and began a forty-eight hour period of debauchery."

Debauchery. It was a big word to describe Faith's trip to every bar and submissive club in Boston. She'd been drunk and trying to get drunker when the Retrieval Team finally found her and dragged her back to Slayer Central. She hadn't been so lost in an alcoholic daze that she'd forgotten the way Diana's blood had pooled on the floor of the warehouse. Or the sound of Kakistos' taunts and laughter when Faith hadn't been able to save her Watcher.

"_You don't wish to join our party? How impolite," Kakistos said. His creepy fingernails waved in the air in front of Diana's face before pointing directly at Faith. "I thought you Watchers trained your charges better. Such a basic thing as good manners."_

_His voice was lost as Diana screamed in response to the knife Kakistos dragged across her chest. _

_Frozen in place, Faith couldn't even manage a whimper. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe…_

Faith snapped back to the present to the harsh sound of her own panting breaths.

"Faith?" She'd been so lost in the memory she hadn't notice Giles' approach. He gently touched her shoulder and peered at her in concern. "Are you well? I cannot believe none of us considered the possibility you had been injured." His eye flickered toward Wyndam-Pryce and his voice turned cold. "Or that you had been emotionally impacted by last night's tragedy."

For an instant, less than even a heartbeat, Faith leaned into his touch. His concern. Then Faith stiffened and pulled away. She didn't need his pity. "I keep tellin' ya," she snapped, "headin' out for a drink ain't a crime. And no one told me the Council ran a prison. I can leave whenever I want." She dared anyone to contradict her statement. Despite the list of transgressions, Faith _had _completed the required Induction Training. She did not have to stay with the Council.

And that concept grew more and more tempting as Wyndam-Pryce set down his portfolio. "Ms. Lehane, you obviously do not recognize the significant threat you currently pose to society. You are, in American lingo, a 'loose cannon.' The Council can and will deny your release from the Sunnydale Slayer House until I assure them your retraining is a complete success."

Retraining. Deny your release. Faith shot to her feet. "You can't keep me here!" she shouted.

"Yes, I can." Wyndam-Pryce was not impressed with her reaction. Straightening his already perfectly aligned tie, he sniffed in disapproval. "Wards have been set around the grounds. Should you attempt to leave without a proper escort, the wards will prevent you from crossing property lines. I will immediately be alerted regarding your actions."

Faith's hands turned into fists, and she grinned tightly when Watcher Wes couldn't _quite _prevent himself from stepping back.

"God, I'm too tired for this. You had your shot, Wes. Now it's my turn," Buffy interrupted the tense scene. She raised her hand when Wes started to object. "Nope. It's time for you to shut up and sit down. You, too, Faith. I mean it. I'm tired. And the two of you are acting like bullies on a playground."

When no one moved, Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"I. Said. Sit. Down!" Dominance dripped from every word.

Faith didn't even bother with a chair. Her knees flexed in response as she dropped to the floor, head bowed. She saw Giles's legs bend and then straighten in her peripheral vision before he sat down in the other chair. Only Wes appeared immune to Buffy's order.

"I'm done playing games," Buffy continued. "Faith, you get to choose from the following options: You can go to England for full retraining. The program takes two years, and the Council gets to decide if you pass at the end – or if they will deactivate you permanently. That's Option One. Option Two is you stay here, stay as in you don't leave the grounds except for school, with me or Wes as an escort. You jump through some hoops. Pass a few tests. And you're back to full duty."

Two options? Who was Buffy kidding? She was full of shit. "What if I choose Option Three?" Faith snapped. "What if I tell you to stuff your fucking training and leave?"

"Like I said. You have two options," Buffy said. "England or here. Pick."

"Here." And somewhere between the first hoop and the first test, Faith would find a way out of Sunnydale.

* * *

Feeling like a complete fraud, Tara scanned the UC-Sunnydale Student Union. A few serious students sat at tables strewn with textbooks. Most tables held less industrious people blearily sipping coffee.

Tara fit into neither category. She had another reason for being here. A reason which had just entered the building.

"Good morning." Janna yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry. Late night." She didn't offer to explain, and Tara didn't bother to ask. "I was…surprised by your call."

No doubt. Not only had Tara been less than receptive to Janna's offer when she'd been at the House on Friday, the timing of this morning's call had been horrible. "I saw the news," she said truthfully. "And I changed my mind. You and Willow can't be everywhere, Janna. If there was someone else attached to the House, maybe…"

"Accidents happen," Janna said defensively. "Witches rarely patrol with the Slayers."

"I know." Damn it. Tara didn't want to insult Janna. She simply needed to convince Janna she wanted to work for the Council. "I'm sorry. I just…I like Faith. I'm worried about her." More than Janna would ever know. Worried so much that anxiety thrummed constantly along Tara's nerves. "And Buffy," she added. "I worry about them both. You were right the other day. The Council needs to recruit witches and make them part of the Slayer teams. I want to be a part of your movement, Janna. I want to help you show the Council how much good a strong magical presence would be."

Janna's eyes widened.

Good. She was beginning to understand. Tara didn't wait to see if she'd gotten the entire message. "I didn't tell you everything when you asked about my background. Even though it's been a while since I've done any big Magick," Tara said, "my mother trained me from the time I was little. I don't need to take classes." She prayed to the Goddess she wasn't overstating the truth. "I want you to schedule a Trial as soon as you can."

"Now isn't really good. I know you want to help." Janna ran a hand through her hair. "Goddess, you've come full circle, and we need your help. Especially now. But with Willow and the new Watcher, I just…I can't," she said, tension evident in every line of her body.

Tara hadn't anticipated this. She should have. Coming on the heels of Faith's accident, everyone involved with the local Slayer House had to be on edge. Passing the Trial was the only way Tara knew to gain full entrance into the House and into Faith's life, though. "What if I take the Trial somewhere else? There are actual Council Headquarters in Los Angeles and San Francisco. If you could give one of them a call, I'll drive there and complete the Trial."

"You'd go to all that trouble?" Janna sat down at an empty table and put her head in her hands.

"Hey!" Quickly joining Janna, Tara took her hands. "It's no trouble." It seemed that joining the Council wouldn't only help Faith but perhaps everyone at Slayer House. Janna was falling apart. Despite the differences in their ages, Tara wanted to wrap Janna in a hug and reassure her that everything would be fine. She knew she couldn't make that promise. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Still, the sooner she took the Trial, the sooner she had even a slight chance of making a difference. "Come on. Make the call. Who knows? They might be able to schedule a Trial for me later today." Better for Faith. Better for Janna. Better for Tara, too. The sooner she passed her Trial, the less likely she was to change her mind and run.


	18. Chapter 18

It was late afternoon when Tara pulled Trish's car over and parked. Her skin buzzed - and this time, she couldn't blame Faith. This time, Tara had only herself to blame. Wrapping her hands firmly around the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and repeated one phrase over and over, "Faith needs you to do this."

Faith needed Tara to stop hiding her talents. Faith needed a strong, self-confident witch to be her backup. Faith needed a strong Dominant who could - and would - take on the Council and anyone else who wanted to hurt Faith. The key to surviving the next few hours was, simply, Faith's needs. Slowly, Tara's emotions stopped their Tasmanian devil impression. Her heart rate slowed. Warmth replaced the chill snaking through her veins. Tara had her focus. Faith. Unconsciously, Tara tilted her head and reached through the dormant bond.

She didn't get very far before the link grew too narrow. Still, there was a hint of emotion, just a tiny frisson of exhaustion and the drag of despair from the other end.

Tara's resolve firmed. "I won't let you down," she vowed out loud. Pulling out of the link, she grabbed her backpack and climbed from the car. She marched resolutely up a cobblestone walkway, past a wild assortment of flowers and vines, to a cluttered porch. Janna hadn't gone through the Los Angeles Council Headquarters. Instead, Tara knocked on the door of the LA Coven's High Priestess.

The door opened quickly, revealing a short, rail-thin young woman with bright blue hair. "Hi, I'm Melody. Blessed be!" Her smile was so electric it could have powered all the lights on the block. "Come on in! I'm so excited to meet you!"

Dazed by the exuberant welcome, Tara murmured her own hellos and entered the house. Incense tickled Tara's nose, and magic tingled along her spine. Whatever else Melody might be, she was clearly very powerful. Tara had a moment to scan the cluttered main room before her host led her up a flight of stairs to the second floor. "I was surprised when Janna called. We've been online friends for years, but I haven't heard from her in a while."

Years? Really? Melody couldn't be more than twenty. "I didn't give her much time to plan," she said, in case Melody expected an answer.

"Oh, I don't mind! Not at all!" Exclamation marks seemed to be a common feature in her speech. "It's so rare to get a new witch wanting to join the Council. I've only done three Trials for them since becoming High Priestess of the Moon Glow Coven. We're not big on fighting," she added in a lower voice. "We prefer more peaceful methods."

Before Faith's accident last night, Tara would have been completely on board with Melody's "do as you will and harm none" philosophy. Today, she wanted to scream at the other woman. That scared her. She had to be in control of her emotions; neither witches nor Dominants could afford to lose control.

There was too much to do. Too much to learn. There was just too much everything. Tara wavered as the enormity of what she faced threatened to overwhelm her.

"We don't mind helping Janna out, though! She's been very helpful with rituals and spells whenever we reach out. Have you met her submissive? A truly amazing young witch!" A single door sat at the end of a long hallway. Melody paused, hand on the knob. "Are you ready, Tara?"

Melodie's chatter gave Tara a chance to regain her focus. She had to remember Faith. Still… "Ready" was such a subjective concept. "Yes," Tara answered clearly. She was as ready as she - and Fate - would ever make her.

The door opened, and Melody stepped inside. "Please join us." Her voice suddenly resonated with authority, and Tara glimpsed the High Priestess beneath the bubbly veneer.

Tara followed Melody into the room. Four witches waited for them. Each stood on one of four green tiles inset into the otherwise hardwood floor. Paint arched between the tiles to form a semi-permanent Circle. Tara closed her eyes for a second and centered. When she re-opened them, she saw the full Circle. A solid wall of shimmering power stretched between the witches; only one section was absent. A Gateway for Tara and Melody.

The Circle closed behind them, and all sounds and sights from the outside world disappeared. Tara could no longer even see the witches holding the protective barrier steady. Only Melody remained. "Along every path, we face challenges. Along every road, there are obstacles. Today, you have chosen to face those challenges head on. To embrace your destiny. I welcome you, Tara, and I applaud your courage. I am hear as an observer; I will record and document your Trial. Do you have any questions?"

"No." Tara's mother had prepared her for this day. "I am prepared to begin." Dropping her personal shields fully, Tara tapped her magical reservoirs. For this Test, she would not be able to use any outside source of power. Today was a test of her strength as a witch.

"Then let the Trial begin!" Melody stepped to the edge of the Circle and bowed her head.

The air around Tara stirred; ephemeral shapes swirled on the unseen currents. Instinct saved Tara as one shape became a lightning bolt. It bounced harmlessly off the shield she hastily raised. Magical sparks sizzled. The attack opened the floodgates for the full fury of the Trial. Tara reeled as unseen voices shouted questions on herbal remedies, potions, and spell casting. Energy balls and ghostly images sought weaknesses in Tara's defenses.

She answered between volleys of raw energy. Each new threat drained her energies. She conserved where and when she could. That meant dodging or deflecting fireballs instead of destroying them. Time lost meaning. Minutes and hours merged and were measured not by a ticking clock but by each question answered, each spell cast. Tara pushed far beyond her imagined limits. She was covered in sweat and swaying in place when the barrage inexplicably stopped.

Melody stepped into the suddenly still and silent Circle. "The Trial is complete." She was pale and studiously avoided Tara's eyes as she continued the ritual speech. "Let all who would question your knowledge and skill listen and be warned. In all matters arcane and mystical, Tara Maclay has earned the rank of Adept."

* * *

"Ah, there you are." Wyndam-Pryce glanced at his watch. "Our appointment was for four thirty."

Faith managed _not _to roll her eyes. She was two minutes late. Two fucking minutes. "Sorry," she lied. If she'd known beforehand that he was going to be upset, she would have waited another few minutes to show up just to piss him off. "Couldn't find my running shoes."

With an impatient sniff, he marked something on his clipboard. "Well, you are here now. We will get started. Part of your training, Ms. Lehane, is an unbiased evaluation of your current fitness and skill levels in armed and unarmed combat. To this end, you will now complete a timed run of the Obstacle Course."

"Why?" The Course was fun but it had nothing to do with fighting vampires or demons. It was a collection of wooden walls set around a path behind the House.

If anything, Wyndam-Pryce's expression grew more disapproving. "Young woman, it is not your place to question the Council's decisions. You will run this course as many times as I direct, when I direct it." Holding a stopwatch aloft, he clicked a button. "Begin."

Faith lost at least a couple of seconds from surprise. She was used to Giles or Buffy at least attempting to answer her questions and explaining the reason behind their requests. Her muscles protested the lack of a warm-up as she took off running. That was why she struggled to scale the first tall wall. Her knees banged painfully into the smooth wood, and her foot slipped off the top. Cursing, she gripped the top and swung her entire body to the left and up, just managing to hook her ankle on the second try. With a grunt of effort, Faith climbed over the wall and dropped to the ground.

She finally found a rhythm after the next hurdle. Her pace picked up until she fairly flew over the dirt path. Water hazard? No problem. Row of tires on the ground? Faith danced through them. Even Watcher Wes had to be impressed with her skills. Pouring every last dreg of energy into a flat out sprint at the end, Faith zipped by Wyndam-Pryce. "How'd I do?"

She wasn't expecting his clipped, "We have more work ahead of us than I thought. Your time was barely adequate, and your technique over the obstacles was truly sub-standard."

No way. Faith snatched the stopwatch and clipboard from Wyndam-Pryce. Four minutes fifty-three seconds. That seemed just fine to her. Then she took a look at the page attached to the clipboard. A chart covered the sheet. The left column held a list of different activities, the first being "Obstacle Course." The second column was the "Passing Mark."

Three and a half minutes.

Passing was three and a half minutes.

Faith numbly handed the clipboard and stopwatch back. "I'm all warmed up now. Want me to do it for real?" Even she could hear the lie.

"Had you been faced with a vampire attack, when would you have had the opportunity to 'warm up'?" Wyndam-Pryce didn't give Faith any wiggle room. "You would simply be dead because you lack basic skills and any modicum of work ethic. Your Watcher Diary is filled with comments on missed training sessions and your obvious disdain for learning new techniques."

For once, Faith had no snappy comeback. He was right. Diana had bitched about her attendance at training sessions. Giles had been less vocal; he's simply sighed and given her Sad Eyes when he'd finally tracked her down. "I'm not big on school," she finally mumbled. Not even the lure of sparring helped build Faith's enthusiasm. "Besides, hitting Giles in one of them puffy suits ain't the same as fighting a vamp."

Wyndam-Pryce considered that, head tilted to one side. "I'm afraid it is not. Even the most fit and well-trained Watcher cannot mimic the speed and strength of a vampire. However, the point of the sessions is not to duplicate a demon attack. The sessions are there to give you more choices, more effective tools in such a fight. And muscle memory is built only through repetition." He peered at her closely. "Boring repetition."

The message was clear. Faith nodded her reluctant understanding.

"Excellent." With an almost-smile, Wyndham-Pryce turned back to the course. "Perhaps, now that you are warmed up, you might show me your true skill at the Obstacle Course? We do need to set a baseline for your time; a starting point for all further tests."

"Ready," Faith announced grimly, getting into position. This time, she'd smoke not only her first time but the Passing Mark, too. Three and a half minutes. Even Giles could run that fast. She was off like a shot when the stopwatch started again. Up and over. Jump the water. Belly crawl under the netting. Puffs of dust and flying leaves marked Faith's progress around the course. Her muscles strained and her lungs burned. She'd never put so much effort into anything in her life.

Panting, Faith completed the course and slid to a halt. "Time?" she managed to gasp between gulps of air.

"Three minutes and twenty-two seconds." Wyndam-Pryce wrote the time on his form. "An improvement. However, I am sure you are aware that it is not an acceptable time for an experienced Slayer. You will have to do better, I am afraid."

Suddenly suffocating, Faith placed both hands on her head, closed her eyes, and fought for breath.

_"You think you're better than me?" Swaying drunkenly, Faith's mother sneered. "Little bitch. You're nothing, and you'll never be more than nothing."_

Tears stung Faith's eyes but she blinked them back. She'd never give her mother the satisfaction of knowing how much her words hurt. "One day, I'm getting out of here. I'm not like you. I ain't gonna be a whore, and drink all my money away." She stood up and ducked a second too late to avoid the open-hand slap that stung her cheek.

"You're not going anywhere. Not unless I tell you to."

"Well, we will work on your time - and your stamina." Tucking the stopwatch into the breast pocket of his waistcoat, Wyndam-Pryce announced, "Perhaps you will do better with weapons. Mr. Giles has been effusive in his complements regarding your fighting abilities. Shall we adjourn to the gymnasium, Ms. Lehane?"

Dread settled in the pit of Faith's stomach as she followed him inside. She enjoyed fighting, and she'd managed to stay alive since being Called. After sparring with Buffy and coming up on the losing end of their sessions every time, Faith knew she wasn't as good as she should be. Maybe she'd get a pass on the weapons test, though. She and Buffy had Hulk-smashed the gym.

Unfortunately, Giles or his new pal Wes had gotten around to replacing all the equipment. Wondeful. To make matters worse, the weapon of choice was a staff. Faith would be lucky not to knock herself out. The smooth wood slid through her hands thanks to the nervous sweat slicking her palms. Even though Wyndam-Pryce started out slow and used the most basic jabs and thrusts, Faith missed blocks. When she did manage to deflect his blow, she overextended. Her ribs paid the price. After the longest sparring session of her life, Faith staggered to across the gym and racked her staff. Breathing her, and her fair was probably bruised. Biting back a moan, Faith dragged a towel over her face and arms to wipe away the sweat.

"Right then. Please complete one hundred pushups."

He was crazy. Faith was too afraid of what he might ask her to do next, though, to say that out loud. She tossed the towel aside and stretched out on the floor. This was a nightmare of epic proportions. By thirty, she knew she'd never make it to fifty. Her arms shook. Twice, Faith was stuck halfway between an "up" position and "down."

_"Did you know that most Slayers have years of training before they are Called to duty?" Pacing back and forth across the front of the deserted classroom, Diana pointed to the pile of books stacked on Faith's desk. "Slayer history, military strategy, Council and human law. How on Earth do you expect to catch up if you continually shirk your studies?"_

Who the Hell cared about the shit in books? Slaying was about action, and Faith excelled at that.

Unfortunately, Diana wasn't on board with Faith's rebellious thoughts. She spun and stalked toward Faith. "You are an embarrassment. To me, to yourself, to this facility. Members of the governing Council write or call daily to question your suitability for your position." There was a moment of silence when Faith wondered if she should say something. "When you first arrived, we understood you faced challenges. In the past half century, there has been only one other Slayer who eluded the identification spells. Unlike you, that other Slayer is fast becoming a legend. You would do well to emulate her, Faith. Buffy Summers is everything a Slayer should be. Everything

_**you **__would be if only you applied yourself."_

When Faith's arms stopped working at pushup forty-three, she crawled to her feet and walked from the room without explanation. Watcher Wes would figure it out. She was a failure.


	19. Chapter 19

Tara wanted desperately to go home. Melodie's guest room had a very comfortable bed, but she hadn't been able to sleep. An Adept. Melody must have gotten it wrong. Not even one in four thousand witches was that powerful. Tara's mother certainly hadn't been that strong.

Had she?

Sunlight lit the blinds as Tara stared at the ceiling. She had so rarely seen her mother practice magic. An occasional glamour of a cartoon character to make Tara laugh. Warding. Healing a cut finger or scraped knee.

"_You don't have to move mountains." With a teasing smile, Tara's mother touched Tara's nose with a single finger. "Not even a little hill," she added, playing on the Irish meaning of Tara's name. "Real power knows its strength and tempers it."_

Every lesson she'd taught Tara had been about control. About understanding the foundation of magic and using it sparingly. Tara closed her eyes, blocking out the brightening day. Dear Goddess. How could she have missed all the signs? The spells her mother _had _cast… They'd appeared effortless. And all of her knowledge. Tears burned a path down Tara's face. "Oh, Mama. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't understand." Sorry she'd believed her mother to be somehow less because she didn't actively use her magic.

Unwittingly, Tara had done the same thing. She's mimicked her mother because of her teachings. She'd used magic only to worship the Goddess.

What did it mean? Blinking away the tears, Tara sat up. First of all, now that she'd passed the Trial, it was time to stop hiding. She'd head back to Sunnydale immediately and talk to Janna about a job at the House. If her father was dumb enough to track her down, he find a big surprise waiting. Tara channeled Faith for a moment. She'd send him packing before he knew what hit him. Maybe by that time, her bond with Faith would be complete and Faith could help.

Feeling better about her prospects and the day ahead, Tara hummed as she climbed out of bed.

* * *

She was still humming later that morning as she walked up the sidewalk toward the Slayer House. Mid-refrain, Tara stopped. Something had changed. Her skin tingled; power rippled in invisible waves around the property. Not the usual warding. This was major Magick. Approaching with more caution, she brushed the leading edge of the shields.

Huh. That was odd. Someone had grafted a second layer of magic onto the original ward. And the new spell wasn't there to keep vampires or demons away from the House. It was set to keep someone _in._ Tara didn't want to trigger any kind of response by probing too deeply. Withdrawing her mind, she hurried up the front walk and into the House without knocking. Janna was expecting her.

"Good morning." Janna must have been peering through the curtains. She grabbed Tara in a bear hug and danced them around the foyer. "Melody called last night. Congratulations!"

"Thanks." Embarrassed by the effusive celebration, Tara gently pulled away. "It was a surprise. A good surprise," she added so Janna didn't think she regretted taking the Trial. "Thanks again for arranging it for me."

Janna rolled her eyes. "Yes, because making a phone call took so much effort." She looked like Willow when she grinned widely. "My poor finger still hurts, and I may have pulled a muscle lifting the phone off the cradle." With a light shove, Janna announced, "You, missy, are a fake. A complete and absolute fake. You were hiding your abilities."

Oops. Tara didn't want to go down that path with Janna. "Maybe a little," she allowed. "Not anymore." Time to redirect the conversation. "I'm here and ready to sign on the dotted line. As you pointed out, witches tend to find their way to the Council. There'll be one more backing your idea of House Covens."

"As much as I want the support… You're an Adept, Tara. Once you finish the paperwork, you could ask the Council to send you anywhere. Devon and Châtillon-sur-Seine have large, traditional Covens. They do most of the Council's research and you could easily move through the ranks there."

"That's the _last _thing I want," Tara said. She had made (or was making) her peace with coming out of the closet with her magic. Nothing, unless Faith suddenly needed a Dominant with clout, would convince her to wade into the cesspool of Coven politics. "I'm happy teaching people the foundations of magic and Wicca and helping with research."

Janna gave her a searching look. Tara schooled her expression and strengthened her personal shields. That made Janna's eyes narrow; she must have been watching Tara's aura and noticed the flare. "It's your decision, Tara."

"And I choose to stay here." With her bondmate. "Let's make it official," Tara announced.

* * *

Sore from head to toe, Faith crept into the Library and sank into one of the ornate wing chairs. She normally thought they were terribly uncomfortable. She was so wrong. The chair was the most comfortable chair ever made.

Too bad she wouldn't get to enjoy the way it cradled her aching body.

Stifling a moan, Faith leaned forward and picked up the book on the nearby end table. It weighed a ton and smelled moldy. Watcher Wes had given her a reading assignment after her four thousandth trip around the Obstacle Course – the last time with weights strapped to ankles and wrists. She was so tired her fingers trembled as she turned to the chapter on Historical Roles of Slayers in Society. Seventy pages of mind numbing boredom due before lunch.

"Did you take any pain killer before sitting down?"

Faith screamed, there was no other word for the girlish sound, and attempted to jump from the chair. Unfortunately, her muscles had stiffened too much and she only lurched forward. The book dropped to the floor.

With an apologetic grimace, Tara picked it up and set it back on Faith's lap. "I'm sorry. I thought you saw me when you came in. You walked right by me." She pointed to a bench seat against the wall by the door. "Are you hurt? I noticed you limping…"

"I'm fine," Faith muttered. She didn't need anyone hovering over her.

Her comment apparently didn't reassure Tara, who frowned and peered at Faith intently. "You're not fine, Faith."

What the Hell? Faith glared back. She didn't need Tara telling her how she felt. Even if she was right.

Before she could lash out, Tara moved away. Walking around Faith's chair, she very slowly and very gently put her hands on Faith's shoulders. "My mother was a healer," Tara announced as if Faith cared. "I wish I had her skill then I could take away your pain."

Faith hated to be touched unless she initiated it. But…There was something in Tara's voice. Some pain of her own that kept Faith from pulling away. "Ain't a big deal. New Watcher's got some killer workout plan, and I'm kinda out of shape." More like a complete loss.

"Don't sell yourself short, Faith." Tara's voice was always quiet. "Unless you were Called yesterday, you're good enough to stay alive. I think you're in amazing shape, and, if you're still willing, I'd love for you to teach me some self-defense." As she spoke, she began to massage the muscles in Faith's neck and shoulders.

If it wouldn't have ruined her reputation, Faith might have dropped her head forward and groaned in pleasure. Tara's fingers were magic. They found every tight spot and worked the knots out.

"Will you teach me, Faith?" Tara asked again. "Janna conned me into joining her team; I'll be working with you and Buffy. Knowing how to defend myself will come in handy."

All of Faith's new-found relaxation disappeared. "She did what?" Thanks to Tara's magic touch, Faith managed to stand up and turn around in one, almost smooth move. "Why the fuck would you join the Council? Are you out of your mind?"

Tara's half-smile seemed more like a smirk. "If I'm crazy, what does that make you? You're a member of the Council, too."

"I didn't have a choice," Faith spat.

That turned Tara's smile into a thoughtful frown. "I never thought of that." She gestured for Faith to sit back down. "If you had it to do over, and you _could _choose, would you?" Her touch was a little firmer as she resumed the massage. Her fingers dug into the knots, pain followed by the cool wash of relief as the muscles loosened.

Hesitating, Faith considered the question. Her life in Boston had sucked. By the time she'd been Called, she'd lived on the streets for over a year.

"You don't have to answer, sweetie. Sometimes I think too much, and it isn't like either one of us can really go back and change our pasts, right?" Faith thought Tara regretted the truth of her own statement.

What had Tara done that she wanted to change? Was there a wild woman under the quiet exterior? Faith nearly laughed out loud at that mental image. Tara was so far from "wild."

"What's so funny?" Tara leaned over the back of the chair and gave Faith the standard Dominant raised eyebrow. "Did I hit a ticklish spot?"

"Nah. Just thought of somethin'. It's not important." Faith knew without asking that Tara wouldn't enjoy being laughed at. "You know, you don't have to keep working on my shoulders. I think my knots is stronger than your hands." She'd noticed Tara shaking them as she'd pretended to glare at Faith. "I'm feeling better anyway. You got the touch. Thanks."

Appearing disappointed, Tara straightened and took a seat in a nearby chair. "I wish I could have done more."

"Told you I felt better," Faith pointed out again. Then she sighed. "Wouldn't matter if you had Hands of Steel. The new Council guy gave me a reading assignment. I ain't got time for you to keep goin'." She pointed to the book in her lap. "I'm supposed read a chapter by lunch. Think he's got a test, too." One more thing for her to fail. Slumping a little, she reopened the book and located the chapter. "Watcher Wes says I need to learn how real Slayers are supposed to act."

"Watcher Wes sounds like an idiot," Tara mumbled.

It was so unexpected that Faith wasn't sure she'd heard Tara correctly. "Come again?"

Tara's eyes were a glacial blue. "'How a real Slayer' acts? You _are _a real Slayer, Faith. He should know that. Stupid man."

Faith chuckled. "Calm down, Lady Tara." She enjoyed the fiery blush that covered Tara's cheeks at her nickname. Tara was cute when she was riled up. "I know I ain't faking the Slayer gig. I just got to prove it to the new guy." Which meant reading the chapter in the next twenty minutes, according to the clock on the wall. Fucking awesome. There was no way she'd have time to finish.

"Did you know Slayers were created by a group called the Shadow Men?" Tara hadn't seemed like a big talker when the two other times they'd met. Faith deliberately – and loudly – turned the page of her book in the hopes Tara would let her read. "They wanted a line of mystical warriors to fight the forces of Evil. They called those warriors 'Slayers'."

Keeping her eyes on the page, Faith didn't respond. She needed to at least attempt the assignment or Wyndam-Pryce would flip.

_In antiquity, a trio of men known as the Shadow Men, precursors to the modern Watchers, created the First Slayer. This powerful and mystical warrior was imbued with the essence of a demon._

Wait. "What did you say?" Faith glanced up to find Tara watching her. "Shadow Men?"

"Yes." Tara smiled as if Faith was a genius for remembering that tiny detail.

"So these guys built a Slayer out of a demon and a girl." Faith did a little mixing of facts, testing the waters.

Tara's smile grew wider. "Exactly. Very good, Faith."

Faith straightened in her chair. "Don't call me Einstein yet," she said despite the burst of pleasure at Tara's praise. "We just covered the first paragraph of the chapter."

"Oh, I've got more." Leaning forward, Tara began talking. "Slayers weren't like you and Buffy originally. There was only one at a time, and most people didn't even know they existed. That's where the modern Council started. Watchers were guides and teachers. Slayers were secret warriors. Sometime in the twelfth century, a Slayer was injured so badly that her heart stopped. Just for a second. And another Slayer was called. When the original Slayer woke up…"

"The Chosen Two." Even Faith knew that part of the story. She closed the book. Tara was way more interesting. "So, I get that Slayers kill demons and vampires. What else? I think that's where Watcher Wes thinks I suck."

Tara really didn't like that. "Don't say that."

"Wasn't me." Faith held up her hands in surrender. Tara might be all sweet and nice on the surface but there was definitely a Dominant buried underneath. Faith didn't have time to tangle with Lady Tara. Although, it might be fun another day.

"Don't even repeat it," Tara said seriously. "You don't suck at being a Slayer or anything else." Then, seeming to gather her composure, she went back to the lesson. "Once the single Slayer 'rule' was broken, more and more Slayers began to activate. The number of demons grew in response. The forces of Good can't outweigh the forces of Evil. There has to be a balance. That's when the Slayer role expanded. With so much Evil running around, the Council couldn't keep Slayers a secret anymore. Slayers partnered with local militia and private armies. A few who were experts in strategy became advisors to kings and political leaders around the world."

Completely caught up in Tara's story, Faith jumped (but thankfully didn't scream) when the door opened behind her. "Ah, Faith. There you are. I hope you have completed your reading. There are some questions I'd like to ask regarding the information." The prick didn't even glance at Tara.

Apparently, he should have. Faith goggled as Tara stood and walked toward Wyndam-Pryce. "Hello. You must be the new Watcher. I'm Tara Maclay, one of the House witches." She thrust her hand out, and Faith wanted to laugh when he automatically shook it.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he said. "You're a witch. How wonderful." Wyndam-Pryce was the world's worst liar. "Forgive me. Faith and I have a previous engagement."

"Oh, she told me." Tara didn't move. She stood firmly between Wyndam-Pryce and Faith.

Sensing trouble, Faith stayed where she was. Slayer or not, she wasn't getting between two Dominants in some weird pissing contest. It was more than a little surprising. Tara had never struck Faith as someone who needed to flash her cuff and posture.

But Tara sure as Hell was. "You're here to test her on Slayer duties," she continued smoothly. There was a hint of tension – or anger – in her tone. "I think you should test me instead. When I found out Faith was studying the same material I was planning to read, I asked her to teach _me _the information. If you test me, and I pass, you know she understands the assignment."

Faith had to fight the urge to stare at Tara in shock. It would totally blow Tara's lie. A lie Faith didn't understand. Why was Tara covering for her? Tara hadn't been reading the book on Slayer History. Faith had no idea why Tara had been in the Library. All she knew was that Tara had taught Faith more in three minutes than Diana had managed in three months.

It was a good thing Faith kept her poker face in place. Wyndam-Pryce glanced at her suspiciously. She met his eyes and shrugged. "Dominant witch." Brandishing her own submissive marker, Faith muttered, "Wasn't going to say no."

Wyndam-Pryce huffed, and Tara seemed to grow impossibly taller as she blocked his path.

"Are you suggesting Faith defy a simple request from a Dominant?" Tara's voice hit glacial and dropped to sub-zero. "Or are you implying that I am lying?" Each word was clipped and distinct. She was seriously unhappy with Watcher Wes.

He saw that, too, and backed off. "Oh, ah, of course not, Ms. Maclay," Wyndam-Pryce stammered. "It's just…Faith…"

"Faith is an excellent teacher, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Since my education was non-traditional, I'm afraid my knowledge of basic Slayer lore isn't what it should be." Tara continued to lie smoothly. Faith wanted to know why; not to mention, how she'd gotten so good at bending the truth. From what she'd seen, Tara was an expert at Slayer history. "If you assign Faith similar reading or tasks in the future, I'd very much appreciate you allowing her to tutor me in the material. It would help me learn faster."

Now Faith understood. Tara was _helping _her. And that help deserved a little assistance. "Kinda does me some good, too," Faith told Wyndam-Pryce. "Helps me remember the information better when I gotta explain it to, T."

"You mean Ms. Maclay." At least Wyndam-Pryce had bought the story.

Faith let his snippy, sideways reminder to be polite float right on by. "You bet. So...we good for lunch?" She really hoped he quizzed Tara while they ate. He was such a tool.


	20. Chapter 20

Staring blindly at the television, Tara replayed her afternoon at the Slayer House. She'd spent hours with Faith, letting her sub "teach" her all about Slayer History. Faith was very smart. Tara had only needed to explain information or events once, and Faith understood. She'd also asked a million questions.

Why, then, did everyone in the House assume Faith wasn't good enough to be a Slayer? It didn't make sense. And it frustrated Tara. Every time she'd praised Faith's answers or indicated any approval of her effort, Faith had appeared confused. Or downright disbelieving. Tara also hated the way Faith's new Watcher treated her. The man was an uptight idiot. During their lunch, he'd lectured Faith relentlessly on "comportment."

_"It is imperative that you begin to look and act like an exemplary member of the Council, Faith. With your troubled history, you'll have to put in extra effort to gain the Council's trust and support. The first step we will undertake is your comportment. That means always sitting erect and on the edge of your chair." Modeling the pose, he scooted ludicrously close to the edge of his chair and thrust his thin chest out. "You should never slouch."_

_Of course, both Faith and Tara were leaning all the way back in their chairs. Tara was afraid to glance in Faith's direction. As a Dominant, she knew she couldn't undermine Wyndam-Pryce's authority by rolling her eyes the way she wanted. As **Faith's **Dominant, it was hard to keep from telling Wyndham-Pryce to shut up and go away._

_"Furthermore, I believe it shows poor manners to be casually dressed at the table. In the future, please present yourself appropriately attired for all meals. If we are attending a Council function, I will select your clothing for you."_

Poor Faith. No wonder she didn't believe in herself. No one else seemed to. If the bond was complete, Tara would be able to demand Wyndam-Pryce be replaced. Faith would feel Tara's approval and support through their bond.

Maybe…Maybe she could already. Tara reached for Faith - and hit the same wall that had stopped her for the last week. Damn it!

"Do you want me to change the channel?" Maxie asked, interrupting Tara's increasingly violent thoughts. "I mean, I didn't think reruns of The Cosby Show were so upsetting."

"What?" Tara blinked and glanced at Maxie in confusion. "What did you say?"

The television shut off, leaving the room quiet. "Who are you going to kill? Do you need Trish to find you a lawyer? I've never seen you so mad. I thought that test-thing you took went well. Did Trish get it wrong?" Maxie asked.

"I don't think I need a lawyer." Tara laughed without real humor. Not yet. If she had to watch the way Wyndam-Pryce treated Faith for too much longer that could change. "A shrink might work. I need to have my head examined by a professional. I have no idea what I'm doing, Maxie. Apparently, I could magically level all of Sunnydale. Fantastic. But I still don't have a working bond with Faith. I need the bond, Max. I think _she_ needs the bond. You should see the way the Council treats her. It's horrible!"

Setting the remote on an end table, Maxie stood and walked over to Tara. "I don't understand you. The Council's abusing Faith. You think Faith needs you. Stop whining about it and do something, Tar. Or are you too afraid?"

"What?" Maxie's comment was so unexpected, Tara didn't know how to respond.

And that was all the encouragement Maxie needed to continue. "You're supposed to be a Dominant. Act like one. If I was Faith, and Trish was you, it wouldn't matter that I couldn't feel the bond. Trish would go storming into the House and make me come with her."

Tara hadn't even thought of that. "I did what I could." Had she? Sure, she'd helped Faith study for her test, and Wyndham-Pryce probably thought she was a crazy bitch. Goddess, Maxie was right.

"I'm right, aren't I? You didn't even think about doing anything. You're too nice to be a Dominant, Tar. At least, a Dominant for a Slayer. Your Mom _did _teach you Slayer 101. They need someone who can stand up to them." Her tone softened, and she knelt at Tara's feet. "Maybe you should let Faith go."

"Excuse me?" Maxie had gone too far this time. All her uncertainty disappeared, and Tara was suddenly furious.

"You heard me." Maxie straightened and glared openly. "Come on, Tara. Do you really think you can tell a Slayer what to do?"

It was clear _Maxie _didn't think Tara could manage it. "I don't need to prove anything to you, Maxine." Leaning forward into Maxie's personal space, she said very softly, "You will _never_ speak to me in that tone again."

"Why not?" Sounding like a little kid on a playground, Maxie dared Tara. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Would your Mistress be happy with your tone, Maxine?" Tara saw Maxie's head dip in response to her question. No matter how relaxed their dynamic, Maxie was still completely submissive to Trish. Maxie would _never _want to disappoint or embarrass Trish. Satisfaction filled Tara. She'd made her point.

At least, she thought she had until Maxie's shoulders stiffened and her chin came up defiantly.

"Jeez, Tara. That's the best you have? You're going to tell on me?" Shaking her head, Maxie continued. "There's no way you could control a Slayer. Especially one like Faith. Have you ever thought maybe the bond is a mistake? That there's only one side to it because somehow Faith knows you aren't right for her?"

Tara was frozen in the chair. Her chest ached; Maxie's words stabbed at her.

"I've met a lot of Dominants. Trish is always dragging me to meet her friends. They are incredibly arrogant and sure they could rule the world. I bet Faith needs someone like that. Someone strong." Sitting back on her heels, Maxie watched Tara with a mocking expression. "My God, Tara, how would you ever get Faith to obey you?"

If Maxie wanted to see how good a Dominant she was, Tara would be more than happy to give a demonstration. Her entire body trembled with anger and hurt. She jumped from the chair and loomed over Maxie. "I have had enough of you," she snapped. "Enough!" One hand reached out and gripped Maxie's collar, dragging her head up.

That's when she glimpsed Maxie's wide eyes and pale face, and Trish's voice from her first Dominance lesson echoed in her memory. _"What would happen if I got mad and lashed out the way you did? What would it do to her?"_

Tara froze and sucked in a slow, calming breath. She had to stop. She had to think. Slipping around Maxie, Tara examined her closely. Something about her posture was wrong. Maxie wasn't angry or mocking. She was no longer daring Tara to prove her worth as a Dominant.

Maxie was afraid. Why? She'd spent the last several minutes shredding Tara's ability as a Dominant. It didn't make any sense. And Tara needed it to make sense before she could effectively respond to Maxie's actions.

It was time to do a little digging. "So you're an expert on Dominants now, Maxine?" Tara used the same cold, clipped tone she'd employed on Wyndam-Pryce. "Or is it only me you know so very well?"

The tone worked far better on Maxie. Despite her doubts, Maxie couldn't suppress a shiver. And Tara was close enough to see her skin goose pimple. "No. No, I didn't...I mean, I'm not an expert," Maxie answered, stumbling over the words.

Tara absorbed the response without comment. This was more the Maxie she knew. Now Tara was more concerned with Maxie's body language. Hands clenched. Shoulders moving from hunched to painfully straight. In the past few seconds, Maxie had licked her lips and shifted her weight a dozen times. A sub who sensed they'd crossed a line with no way of getting back to safety. "What would happen if you provided similar insight about to a Dominant like Monica?"

If Maxie had been pale before, she was now completely devoid of color. "I'd be punished." The words were a tangled mess and so soft Tara barely heard her.

Clearly, Maxie didn't want to be punished. Why had she been so deliberately rude then? Had she truly believe Tara wouldn't respond as a Dominant? "What would Monica do, Maxine?" Tara asked. "Tell me what would happen if you had told Monica she wasn't ready to bond with Drew?"

"She'd be so mad, Ma'am. God. She'd be mad and she'd make me call Trish." A fate worse than death, if the tears streaming down Maxie's face were any indication. "She'd make me call Trish and tell her what I said."

Tara's hands gripped the hem of her shirt to prevent her reaching out to comfort Maxie. Maxie hadn't earned a cuddle or a shoulder to cry on. "Trish wouldn't be happy with your behavior, would she?" Her friends were a very informal couple. In the time Tara had known them, she'd seen Trish truly Dominate Maxie only a handful of times.

Every time, Maxie's sharp tongue and over-the-top comments had been the trigger.

"No," Maxie whispered pitifully.

That wasn't good enough. Tara pulled herself to her full height and glared down at Maxie.

The heat from her glare must have heated Maxie's hair or she sensed Tara's continuing unhappiness. Maxie's chin dropped all the way to her chest. "No, Ma'am. Trish wouldn't be happy with my behavior."

"You don't like to disappoint your Mistress." Tara was back to that point. If Maxie didn't enjoy the consequences of her rude comment, why make them? "And yet you were deliberately rude. Why?" It was time for a more direct approach.

Maxie didn't answer. She huddled on the floor, a silent picture of submissive misery.

"Answer the question, Maxine!" Despite a tight leash on her emotions, Tara's frustration leaked into the snapped command.

Voice shaking, Maxie responded instantly. "I called in a favor. A friend from high school who works for the Council in Charleston."

Tara's mind latched onto the seemingly unrelated information and knitted it with Maxie's past. Maxie who had admitted to attending a Council ball in her old hometown of Charleston and who had probably scored their invitations to the ball in Sunnydale.

"John's bondmate does Potential Identification. I asked him to get information on Faith." Maxie turned her head just enough to look quickly back at Tara. "I wanted you to know, to have something to go on. That's all! But…"

"But what?" Tara wanted to back away and run. All her instincts said she didn't want to hear what Maxie's friend had found. Instead, she stood her ground and kept the pressure on Maxie.

"Faith's trouble, Tara. John said the Council's been trying to get rid of her, to deactivate her, for months." Some of Maxie's courage returned. "You're too good for her, Tara. Too good and too nice. You'd never be able to control her, and she'd make you miserable."

* * *

The walls closed around Faith. Despite the tranquil sunset view through the window, she quivered with a thwarted need to run.

"Have you heard a word I've said?" Watcher Wes asked sharply. He was always like that. Hard. Abrupt. Disapproving. Nothing Faith did was ever good enough.

He sounded like everyone in Faith's life. Mother, Watchers, Buffy, Janna… The list was endless, just Wes' the lecture. "Yeah, I heard ya'." Faith didn't turn around, though. Watching the sunset was the only thing keeping her from screaming. "The Council didn't like the report you sent about my test scores." She hadn't passed a single test except the one on Slayer History. The one Tara had helped her study for.

"Precisely." No rousing motivational speeches from Wyndam-Pryce. His voice full of censure, he continued. "What I am unable to understand, Ms. Lehane, is how you reached your current level of ineptitude."

"No secret, Wes." The gloves were off. Faith was done trying to impress Wyndam-Pryce or anyone else. It was a lost cause. "I worked real hard to hit my 'current level'." Letting the sun finish its downward trip, Faith spun and smiled mockingly. "You think you can get me to do any better? 'Cause Diana was just like you when she started, convinced she had what it took to make me good enough to be a Slayer."

Placing his hands on Giles' desk, Wes leaned forward and met Faith's eyes. She shivered. Was that a hint of satisfaction in his expression? "Are you issuing a challenge, Ms. Lehane? It would be patently unwise to do so. You have no hope of winning any such battle."

For a Watcher, Wes was a moron. In _any _battle, Faith would win. Slayer versus human. She'd pick him apart before he could scream for help.

Fuck, maybe he _was _right. Faith had no viable escape route with the warding spell set around the House. Faith could leave but Buffy would be a step behind her. Frustration boiled up, and Faith caged the emotion. At least, she hoped she did because Wes watched her closely.

"Beginning tomorrow, you will no longer attend Sunnydale's secondary school." It was the first time Wes had said anything that excited Faith. Excitement lasted for less than a heartbeat. "I will take over your education. The Council has provided a very strict and regimented curriculum designed to fill in the deplorable gaps in your knowledge and skills."

Faith swore the walls slid toward her several feet at the announcement. She was a prisoner of the Council. "No."

There was no mistake this time. Faith's defiance pleased Wes. Reaching under the desk, he pushed on something before straightening and fussing with his tie. "I see. That kind of attitude is exactly why the Council feels you are so ill-suited to your role."

The door opened suddenly and Buffy strode in. "You needed me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?" she asked with saccharine-sweet politeness.

"Yes. Ms. Summers, I'm afraid Ms. Lehane does not wish to take part in the new tutoring program. If you will remember, there were conditions to her continued stay in Sunnydale. I will have to request the Retrieval Team prepare Ms. Lehane for a trip to Scotland if this cannot be resolved."

Faith was a master button pusher. In the last few months, she'd mashed every one of Buffy's – some of them more than once. She knew what to say to make Buffy blush or giggle. What made her mad. She'd _never_ seen Buffy like this.

Buffy stood stock still, and her face appeared carved from stone. "Consider it resolved."

"This isn't simply a matter of you…convincing Ms. Lehane to attend our first session tomorrow. She openly defied a direct order from a Council representative." All of Wes' attention remained on Buffy.

What the hell was going on, Faith wondered. Wes wasn't interested in her anymore. He wanted something from Buffy.

"I remember our agreement," Buffy said tonelessly. "Let me talk to Faith and then I'll meet you downstairs."

"It is not that simple. You do realize I will have to notify Mr. Giles and the other…"

"I said I remember." Buffy cut him off, and Faith noticed Wes take an involuntary step away at Buffy's angry growl. "I made the agreement. I'll stick with it. Do whatever you have to do. I just need a minute to talk to Faith."

Wes nodded tightly and strode from the room.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Faith asked as soon as the door closed behind him.

"What do you think, Faith?" All of Buffy's anger was gone. She paced slowly to the window and did what Faith had done earlier: stare out at the now-dark sky. "You said it yourself. The Council wants to deactivate you."

The usual panic didn't infuse Faith. She'd heard it too often, had known almost from the beginning that the Council would inevitably win. "Maybe you should let 'em. I'm trouble, B. Always have been, just ask my ma," she said numbly.

"No!" Buffy turned and pointed at Faith. "You are a Slayer, Faith. A good Slayer. I don't care what that stuffed shirt says. You're a good Slayer."

Warmth swirled in Faith's chest. "Really?"

"I've been telling you that since you got here, you idiot." A smile lightened the strain on Buffy's face. "But you never believe me." The smile faded. "You have to do what Wyndam-Pryce tells you, Faith. He's got a lot of high-powered friends on the Council. Giles and I…"

Faith waited, the pleasure from Buffy's praise draining away.

"We're doing everything we can to help you." Meeting Faith's eyes, Buffy said again, "You have to do what he tells you. I can't hold him off forever. The next time you screw up, or the time after that… He'll call up his buddies and you'll be gone."


	21. Chapter 21

"So you're not only an expert on Dominants, but now you know more than Fate." Tara wasn't really paying attention to their conversation any longer. The sheer magnitude of Maxie's interference took her breath away. As did the specter of a loveless, miserable bond. A bond like her parents'.

"I know that the Council has a file on Faith already. She's been in trouble since the day she was Called. Her first Watcher died while she watched. The report John found said she didn't even try to help, Tara. She just stood there." Maxie recovered her confidence and broke position completely and stood up. "Walk away while you can. You're too good for her," she repeated. "Repudiate the bond. Please, Tara."

Tara couldn't grasp what Maxie was telling her. Faith had let her Watcher die? That didn't sound at all like Faith. The report was wrong. It had to be. Another example of the Council writing Faith as the villain.

And Tara wasn't repudiating Faith. No matter her own lingering doubts about the bond, Tara wouldn't turn her back on Faith. Repudiating Faith meant officially registering the partial bond with City Hall. Registering and then refusing. On paper. Tara remembered Faith's expression during their tutoring session and Wyndam-Pryce's lecture at lunch. She'd been crushed and trying desperately to hide it. All of her bravado and boasting were meant to cover how much Faith _expected _to fail.

Tara wasn't going to become yet another failure in Faith's life. Especially not because of a report more than likely written by a Wyndam-Pryce clone.

Decision made, Tara's mind settled and she regained her focus of the moment: Maxie. "Did John send you his information, Maxine? Or was this only over the phone?"

"John wouldn't risk taking the file out of the Council building." Maxie tried to get Tara to meet her eyes. She flinched and immediately dropped her chin when she succeeded – and saw Tara's expression.

"You're very lucky you left no paper trail," Tara said softly. If she spoke any louder, her anger would slip out of her control. Tara had no intention of ever yelling. Her father had yelled. He'd always been angry. "You've gone too far this time. This is bigger than being pushy or impolite. You assumed to know more about what I or Faith needed than we do. You tried to influence my decision. You went behind my back to get information about _my bondmate. _And you deliberately challenged my authority." Taking a step toward Maxie, Tara loomed over her.

"Here's what's going to happen." Channeling all her hurt at Maxie's meddling into her next statements, Tara said, "You're going to kneel right here. Right where you told me I wasn't good enough for _my bondmate_, and you're going to wait for Trish to come home." She barely paused while Maxie dropped to her knees in the appointed spot. "I can't punish you; you don't belong to me. However, when Trish comes home, you will tell her everything that you have done, Maxine. You will ask her to punish you."

Tara was so close to Maxie she felt her convulsive shiver. "Yes, Ma'am. I'm so…"

"No, Maxie," Tara disagreed. She was suddenly exhausted. Tired in spirit and mind. "I don't want to hear it." Maxie wasn't genuinely sorry. She was only sorry Tara had managed to quell her behavior. Leaving Maxie in the living room, Tara quickly packed an overnight bag. She couldn't stay here right now. She needed time to calm down. And, Tara admitted as she zipped the bag closed, she really needed to see Faith.

There was only one place to do that. Ignoring Maxie's plaintive voice calling her name, Tara looped the bag over her shoulder and left the house. It wasn't fully dark yet. She had enough time to safely walk to the Slayer House.

The sidewalks were filled with students. Classes had resumed a couple of weeks ago; most of them still attempted to keep up with class work this early in the semester. Bundled into sweatshirts and coats, they hurried to and from campus. Tara wandered more slowly, her mind as heavy as the bag she carried.

Most life bonds formed early in life. Some while the bondmates were children. Others as late as the teen years. Only a rare handful of people bonded later than that. Growing up with a link to another person provided time for each bondmate to grow comfortable with their partner, to learn about their life and personality. By the time they finally physically met, there were few secrets to be had. Pasts were just that. Past.

Tara and Faith hadn't had that opportunity. Slayers were the exceptions to the rule. They generally bonded late. Tara had never thought to ask why. Now she desperately needed to know all the things that made up "Faith" – without having to peer through the Council's obviously biased point of view.

If the bond had formed earlier. If the bond was fully formed now. If Tara had had a chance to get to know Faith before she'd become a Slayer. If. If. If.

Realizing her footsteps had become frustrated stomps, Tara stopped and looked up at the stars. She knew better than to question the Goddess, but, oh, it was tempting.

"Every time I meet you, I think you're running away. This time, you even have a suitcase." Buffy said from a nearby park bench, causing Tara to jump from surprise. "Is it just me? Or do you dislike Sunnydale that much?"

Tara couldn't very well deny Buffy's accusation about running away. She was. "Actually, I think it must be you. Until we met at the other day at the House, I'd never even thought about leaving town," she exaggerated. Buffy didn't have to know she'd been packed and ready to run after her chat with Althenea. "I mean, as long as you're here what else can I do? I'll have to leave Sunnydale, the only home I've ever known."

Buffy chuckled. "You need to stop spending time with Will. All the drama and exaggeration. She's rubbing off on you. If you start to Willowbabble, too, we're in so much trouble." She shifted and winced visibly.

"Are you hurt?" Tara immediately sloughed off her bag and hurried over to the bench. "Buffy?" she prodded when Buffy didn't answer her.

"I'm fine. Just…stiff." It was more than that. Tara saw how carefully and slowly Buffy moved as she stood up. "I'll be fine. I was heading home and needed to sit and think. Looks like you could do the same. You were on the warpath until I interrupted."

It was a good description of Tara's mental state. "How about I escort you home? I owe you for the last time," she said.

"Normally, I'd laugh. I mean, a witch protect a Slayer?" Buffy picked up Tara's bag and began a slow shuffle in the opposite direction of the Slayer House. "Janna said you're a superwitch, though, so no laughing here. I'll be the helpless sidekick if any vampires attack."

From Buffy's gait, she certainly wouldn't be much use in a fight. Frowning, Tara matched Buffy's pace. "What were you thinking about? And what did you do to get so stiff?" She caught Buffy's glance and responded. "You may be a fighting machine, but you are a terrible liar. You aren't fine. And you probably sat down on that bench to do your thinking because it was sit or fall over."

"Janna always says smart women are hot," Buffy muttered.

"I'm absolutely crushed you don't agree," Tara said wryly. "I mean, if I were a submissive and neither of us were already bonded…" She enjoyed Buffy's snort and the way Buffy linked their fingers. But she wasn't letting Buffy off the hook. "It doesn't take Willow's genius to spot the signs. You aren't simply stiff. You're hurt. Why aren't you back at the House letting someone stitch you up?"

Buffy refused to answer with a firm shake of her head.

Stubborn Slayer. "Is there at least someone wherever we're going who can help you?" If not, Tara might have to get mean and nasty. As Buffy had pointed out, she had enough power at her fingertips to make even a Slayer think twice.

"My mom and Xan." There was something in Buffy's voice. Warmth. Affection. Something Tara heard in her own voice when she spoke openly of Faith.

"Xan?" It was an unusual name. So unusual that Tara guessed further. "Xander? He's yours?" How had she missed that?

Buffy's pained-lined expression morphed into the softest smile Tara had ever seen. "We're working through some issue. My issues. But yeah, he's mine."

A stab of jealousy took Tara's breath away. She wanted that. She wanted to publicly announce that Faith belonged to her.

She wanted to look that happy.

Thankfully, Buffy stayed silent, lost in her own thoughts, until they turned onto Whiteoak Drive. It was long enough that Tara didn't scream (or worse, cry) when Buffy asked, "What about you? I saw the new cuff. Is your sub having raptures planning the collaring ceremony?"

"No," Tara answered reluctantly. She kept her eyes forward, afraid for Buffy to see her expression. "I…we haven't met yet." Not really. Faith didn't have a clue who Tara really was.

"I'm sorry. I remember when Xander showed up in my head. I'd known him for over a year. He was already my best friend. All I could think about at first was claiming him." Buffy squeezed Tara's fingers. "Then a band of vampires broke into the school. One of them grabbed Xan, and I almost didn't get there in time. I totally freaked out. I've spent the last year and a half running away and pretending I didn't want him."

"Why? Why run away and what changed your mind?" Tara really wanted to know, and getting the story from Buffy also kept Tara from having to dodge more questions about her bondmate.

Biting her lip pensively, Buffy shrugged. "It was all mixed up. Xan's my bondmate, and I'd nearly let him get killed. What kind of Dominant does that? I should have been there. I'm not as smart as you and Willow. I'm a Slayer. We're more about action than logic. All I could think was, what if some vampire came after Xander because we were bonded and this time I was too late? I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't take that risk. " Her head tilted to one side. "I know, Xan. I know. I was wrong, OK? I'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you."

Oh, Goddess. Tears threatened, and Tara swallowed them back. She couldn't hear Faith like that. Couldn't share her thoughts no matter where they were. "How did he get you to change your mind?"

"He didn't," Buffy said. "Someone else did. She took care of him one night when I'd almost pushed him over the edge. It made me see… Xander made me see I was wrong. I couldn't protect him from my life. He was already part of it. He stood up to me, Tara." It was clear Buffy was proud of that.

Tara followed Buffy down Revello Drive. They had to be close to Buffy's final destination. Despite her careful movements, Buffy walked faster.

"Don't think I missed how you got me to do all the talking," Buffy warned Tara. "What's bothering you, Tara? You're one of the team now. We may yell and scream and get big with the drama, but we also do whatever it takes to take care of each other. We can't help unless you tell us what's wrong."

"Thank you." Tara marveled at Buffy's offer. She'd grown up with only her mother for an ally and confidant. Now, in a little more than two weeks, she'd added a powerful new group of friends into her life. "I…there really isn't anything you can do, Buffy. I just got some bad news about my bondmate. She's been in some trouble, and my best friend thinks I should walk away from her."

On the front walk of a welcoming-looking home, Buffy pulled Tara into a bear hug. "Your best friend is an idiot. Remember me? I'm the biggest idiot around. I almost did exactly what this friend is telling you to do – and it would have been the worst mistake of my life." She stepped back with a wince. "Come on. I think even my hair hurts right now, and Xan's waiting inside to soothe all my aches and pains."

"Oh, so it's all about Xander," Tara mocked. "I get it. You'll help me with my problems, but only when you aren't letting your handsome sub pamper you."

Pushing the door open, Buffy winked. "Duh, Tara. If your sub was waiting for you like _that,_" she waved a hand at the foyer, where Xander knelt nearly wiggling with anticipation, "you'd be all with the 'me, me, me,' too."

Buffy had a good point. She also had a dopey, love-struck expression as she walked slowly toward Xander. "Hey, Xan. It's been a rough day. I'd love it if you took me upstairs and helped me work out all the kinks."

It was such a corny line that Tara wanted to cover her eyes. But Xander didn't respond in kind. He flowed to his feet and with utmost care, swept Buffy up into his arms. "Yes, Ma'am." As Buffy nuzzled her head under Xander's chin, he started up the stairs.

"Damn! Wait a second, Xan." Buffy's head popped up and she peered over his shoulder as he froze in place. "Mom! Mom, I know you're in the kitchen. I can hear you trying not to breathe."

The door to Tara's right swung open. "Have I mentioned recently how much I occasionally hate those enhanced senses of yours?" An older version of Buffy glowered at the pair on the stairs before smiling. "You are so cute together." She turned to Tara. "Don't you agree?"

Buffy's bright blush was hysterical. "Absolutely," Tara agreed.

"I'd stop right there, Tara, before I forget – again – that you're part of the team now," Buffy threatened.

"What my Ma'am meant to say, Mrs. Summers, is that Tara needs a place to stay tonight." Xander didn't turn around; he stayed just as Buffy had directed. However, he added over his shoulder. "It's too late for her to go to the Slayer House or even back home. Would it be alright if she stayed in the guest room?"

Tara started to protest. She was more than capable of walking to the House on her own.

"Xander's the best thing that ever happened to you, honey," Mrs. Summers said, smiling brightly at the tongue Buffy stuck out at her. "Let your young man take you upstairs. I'll get Tara all settled in for the night." A single raised eyebrow dared Tara to refuse.

It was tempting, but not even super witches and developing Dominants stood a chance against a determined mother. "Thank you," Tara mumbled.


	22. Chapter 22

Faith didn't bother with the pool. She was too tired for even one slow lap. The attached hot tub, though, called her name. Dropping her clothes into a nearby patio chair, she slipped into the blissfully hot, bubbling water and closed her eyes. The heat immediately went to work on her muscles. Faith rolled her neck. Pops announced the release of tension.

Unfortunately, sitting completely motionless meant Faith had too much time to think.

What was she going to do? There was a brand new training and tutoring schedule taped to the door of her room. Muster, as Wes called it, was at six every morning. _Every _morning. Calisthenics to improve her speed and stamina. Long-distance runs and timed trips through the obstacle course on alternating days. Hours of class work and daily assessments. The schedule covered every waking moment of the day.

Faith wanted to take the schedule and stuff it down Wes' throat. At the same time, she wanted to prove to Buffy that she really was a good Slayer. Either decision boiled down to the same simple question: stay or go? And it was an equally simple answer. Faith would stay because she had nowhere else to go. She could run like she'd planned, of course. But the accident with Finch meant the Council would more than likely come after her. They believed she was out of control and dangerous. Hell, they wanted to deactivate her.

Maybe it wasn't so simple after all. Faith didn't _want _to stay. She wanted to give the Welcome to Sunnydale sign a final one-fingered salute and head for greener pastures. Doing that meant an inevitable showdown with Buffy, and Faith would lose.

Damn Finch for being in that alley and putting her in this position!

With a curse, Faith realized her muscles were corded again. She took a deep breath and sank under the water. It was hard. The buoyancy kept trying to shove her up. Faith exhaled and fought the pull. Her immersion lasted seconds. She popped above the water – and startled Giles who had been peering into the shadow-shrouded hot tub.

"Dear Lord!" He stumbled back several steps, one hand pressed to his chest. "Are you alright? I had thought…You were under the water…" Recovering, Giles strode to the edge of the tub and leaned down, hand extended. "Do come out of there." His voice dropped to a mumble. "Before I have a bloody heart attack."

He was such a drama queen. Grinning reluctantly, Faith took his hand and allowed him to hoist her out of the water.

That's when he noticed her swimwear.

Faith threw her head back and laughed. She couldn't help it. Giles was beet red even in the rapidly dimming light. He was priceless. "I got clothes on," she reminded him. Bra and panties. They covered all the good girlie bits.

"Indeed," Giles managed in a strangled voice. "However, I recommend adding a few more. You have a visitor inside."

"What?" All thoughts of teasing Giles further slipped from Faith's mind. A visitor? She didn't know anyone. No one who would qualify as a visitor, anyway. Grabbing her discarded jeans and T-shirt, she yanked them on over her wet underwear. Water immediately dripped down her legs and onto the ground. Her shirt fared worse, soaking up water from both her bra and hair.

Giles' embarrassment gave way to hesitation. "Perhaps you should take a moment to change?"

"Another Council buddy out front I gotta impress?" That would make Faith's day so much crappier. "Think I should let Wes dress me?" She'd skipped dinner to avoid having to dress properly, as he'd demanded at lunch.

"Why would you…" Giles broke off and turned away, but not before Faith saw the way his lips pressed together. "No, my dear. You do not need Mr. Wyndam-Pryce as a fashion advisor. I merely thought you would be more comfortable in dry clothes. I daresay the Mayor will not expect you in formalwear since his visit was unannounced."

The Mayor. Wicked. Faith started for the House and then stopped. She'd killed his second-in-command. He was probably mad at her. Her stomach did a slow roll.

"Faith?" Of course Giles noticed her concern.

"He, uh, he ain't out for blood or anything, right?" He'd been so friendly at his office. Faith didn't want that to have changed. For the first time, Faith confronted the results of her actions in the alley. Killing Finch might have been an accident, but it might also have lost her the first real friend she'd ever had.

Giles immediately shook his head "The Mayor does not appear to hold a grudge, Faith. What happened to Deputy Mayor Finch was an accident." His stare was intent as he continued. "Nearly everyone acknowledges that fact."

Nearly everyone. Was _Giles _poking at the Council? Faith remembered the heated "discussion" between Giles, Buffy, and Wes the morning after she killed Finch. She'd only been able to hear Buffy, but... She'd think about that later. The Mayor was waiting. "Think it'd be OK if I said hi to the Mayor and then changed?" She didn't want the Mayor to wait too long; he might decide to leave.

"I think that is a wonderful idea." Giles appeared pleased with her suggestion.

When they entered the living room, however, Wes was there with the Mayor. And he looked as far from pleased as possible. "I want to assure you, Mr. Mayor, that the Council has taken Ms. Lehane's actions extremely seriously. I have been assigned as her new Watcher. My focus..."

He might have gone on forever, Faith thought, if the Mayor hadn't spotted her frozen in the entryway. Springing from his chair, the Mayor strode across the room and pulled her into an unexpected hug. "Faith! I've been so worried about you."

"I'm all wet!" Faith choked out, trying to pull away (even as she secretly enjoyed his warm greeting).

The Mayor pulled her closer in response. "It's only water. I promise I'm not sweet enough to melt." After one last squeeze, he stepped back - but kept his hands around her upper arms. "Are you alright? You weren't hurt, were you? The police report says there were dozens of vampires with Allan."

Dragging her eyes away from the water stains on the Mayor's suit, Faith shrugged. "Not even a scratch. Giles said they were supposed to be good with swords, but me and B handled them."

_Wide, confused eyes. Blood everywhere. On her hands, her clothes. Dripping onto the alley floor._

Faith's stomach heaved, and she swallowed hard. Her skin chilled, the air conditioning Arctic against her damp skin and clothes, and she shivered.

The Mayor's eyes narrowed. "You're cold! How unbelievably rude of me to keep you here. Please, change clothes before you catch your death." He held up a hand to forestall Faith's refusal. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Go! Change!" There was no hint of Dominance in the command, only concern for Faith. "I'll chat with these two fine gentlemen until you return."

"Yes, Sir," Faith muttered. When he released her, she dashed up the stairs. She didn't want to be gone long. Wes the Bastard would spend the whole time telling the Mayor what a loser she was. No way did Faith want that. The Mayor had thought she was a hero the night they first met. Ripping impatiently at the heavy material of her jeans, she dragged off her pants. There was nothing Wes would consider appropriate in her closet. Still, Faith chose her best pair of black jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt. Her hair went back in a sloppy ponytail. Stuffing her feet into battered tennis shoes, Faith ran back to the living room.

It was silent. All three men sat and glowered at each other as Faith skidded to a halt.

The Mayor was the first to notice her return. He turned in his seat, face lighting with Faith's favorite goofy smile. "You didn't have to dress up for me. It's late, and I know you've been hard at work today." The smile wavered. "Mr. Wyndam-Pryce has been telling me about your training schedule. It sounds absolutely brutal."

"Nah, I'm a Slayer. Piece of cake," Faith lied uncomfortably. She could feel Wes observing her closely, waiting for her to say the wrong thing, to complain about the new regime.

And Buffy's voice rang in her head, _"He's got a lot of high powered friends on the Council."_

The Mayor's eyes flickered to Wes and back to Faith. "Mr. Giles, you are still in charge of Sunnydale's Senior Slayer, correct?" At Giles' murmured agreement, the Mayor crossed his arms and took up a protective stance in front of Faith. "Then I believe that also makes you the Watcher in Charge of this House. I request a private conversation with Ms. Lehane. Now." His voice was imperious, a man clearly expecting to get what he wanted.

He did. Giles stood and pulled Wes up by the arm of his suit jacket. "Of course, Mr. Mayor. How thoughtless of me and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I'm sure it seems as if we don't trust Faith or that she is a prisoner here. That is far from the truth. Please. Make yourself at home." With a happy glint in his eyes, he marched toward the door, dragging a reluctant Wes with him.

As soon as they disappeared around the corner, the Mayor leaned in close and asked in a whisper, "Are they really gone?"

Tilting her head, Faith made a show of listening closely. "Yeah. They went upstairs."

"Good. That Wesley is amazingly irritating, and I think he's got it in for you, Faith. I wasn't kidding. That schedule of his is nothing short of abuse." Throwing his arms out, Richard continued. "While you were upstairs, he told me that the Council was watching you. He had the gall to tell me I didn't have anything to worry about. That you would learn self-control or they'd turn you off. Can they do that? More importantly, _why _would they do that?"

Twice in one day, Faith had heard just what the Council had planned. Follow their rules or lose the only thing in her life that mattered: being a Slayer. She should come clean with the Mayor. Tell him the truth about just how "good" she was. Faith opened her mouth and couldn't find the words. Dropping her head, she shrugged listlessly.

"Don't you dare do that!" Richard put a hand under Faith's chin and pulled it up. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Don't you _ever _bow your head until your Dominant bonds with you, and _that_ is a gesture of respect. These Council buffoons are wrong about you, Faith. Wrong!"

"I killed your friend," Faith whispered in a husky voice.

Richard's hand shifted until his thumb covered Faith's lips. "It was an accident. I don't blame you."

Pressure built behind Faith's eyes, in her throat, and on her chest. Afraid to breathe, she froze in the Mayor's grasp. She didn't cry, damn it. Not ever. Finally, though, she managed to say, "The Council does. Fucking Wes does, too!" The words were still soft but Faith's anger crept in.

"I knew it. My poor Faith." His expression grew intent. "That Wesley character, he didn't punish you, did he?"

Faith shook her head. "No. Not yet. I think he wanted to but B…Buffy wouldn't let him. They got some kinda deal or he'da dragged me to Scotland and turned off the Slayer switch already." She met his eyes briefly before staring at a scuff mark on the far wall. "That new training schedule… Pretty sure he's using it to yank my chain. Show me how I suck at being a Slayer."

"Language, Faith." Richard's mock stern glare made Faith's lips twitch. "And I keep telling you, you're a wonderful Slayer. The Council doesn't understand you like I do." He steered her gently to the couch and sat down next to her. "Faith, I know you love Slaying. I can see it every time we talk. But this place…this House…It's not good for you. All the rules and stuffy Watchers don't give you the opportunity to excel and grow the way I know you can."

"Slaying is wicked." Faith had recovered her composure enough to shrug off the rest of Richard's comments. Or, she tried to. Richard was right about the rules and the Watchers. She'd thought the same thing since meeting Diana for the first time. And Richard really did seem to understand the way she thought. "I ain't qualified for anything else." The truth about her past hovered on her lips, but Faith swallowed the words. She wasn't going to even _think _about Boston, let alone talk about it.

For the first time, Richard seemed disappointed in her. Faith shrank away from his heavy sigh and his unhappy frown. "You don't even remember, do you?"

"Remember what?" What was he talking about? Faith frantically tried to remember everything they'd ever talked about.

"The job." The Mayor turned toward her and seized her hands. "I want you to come work for me, Faith. Lead my private security team. You are the _only _one qualified to help me with that." Loud (very loud) footsteps on the stairs announced Giles' and Wes' return. The Mayor broke off with a thunderous expression and then the frown disappeared. "Do you trust me, Faith?" he asked intently.

Of course. "Yes, Sir," Faith said. He'd stood up with for her against Wes, and he thought she deserved to be a Slayer. He thought she was even good enough to work for him.

"Excellent." The Mayor spoke faster, rushing to finish his comment before they lost their privacy. "No matter what happens, you let me do the talking, OK?"

To show she understood, Faith merely nodded in reply. It earned her one of the Mayor's quirky smiles and a double-hand squeeze.

"Ah, Mr. Mayor." Wes was all smiles as he walked back into the living room. "Forgive me for the intrusion; however, Ms. Lehane must be ready for her studies tomorrow. I'm sure you don't want her to do poorly during exams or training. Perhaps we could arrange another visit for you? At your convenience, of course."

The Mayor stood and crossed his arms over his chest. "Absolutely not," he announced. Into the stunned silence that followed, he said, "Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I didn't come here only to visit with Faith. I also came to bring her some very important information. I see now that I should have gotten that out of the way immediately because it is clear you are punishing her for the accidental death of my Deputy Mayor."

Wes straightened as if the Mayor had slapped him. He looked ridiculous with his chest puffed out like the big rooster in the Looney Tunes cartoons. "Your accusation is patently untrue, Mr. Mayor. There has been no punishment at all. I am merely attempting to mold Ms. Lehane into a more acceptable Slayer."

It always came back to that one point for Wes and for the Council. Faith wasn't good enough. It was more than her lack of fighting skills. They didn't approve of who she was or how she acted.

"You, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, are a fool. And if your Council cannot see how truly amazing and wonderful Faith is, then you don't deserve her." The Mayor extended a hand to Faith, gently helping her to her feet. "In fact, I'd go so far as to say _she_ deserves far better than anything you can offer." He pulled Faith protectively against his side. "And that's why she's leaving with me tonight. I have offered Faith a position on my personal staff, and I am delighted to say she has accepted."

If Wes had actually been Foghorn Leghorn, animated puffs of steam would have jetted from his ears. He wasn't, though. The only sign of his displeasure was a darkening flush and the taut line of his shoulders.

"I am so very sorry, Sir," Giles said before Wes had a change to blow his top. "Under normal circumstances, Faith would be free to leave her position with the Council." His eyes, behind the shielding lenses of his glasses, met Faith's. She thought he _did _seem upset by what he had to say. "Faith's accident with Deputy Mayor Finch places her in a unique situation. One in which Faith must pass certain Council certifications before resuming her full duties. Perhaps in a few months…"

A few months. Faith forgot about her promise to the Mayor. "I ain't stayin' and you can't make me."

One of the Mayor's hands landed on her shoulder and gripped tightly in reminder. "Faith is correct, Mr. Giles. You cannot keep her here; not because of her undoubtedly superb fighting skills, though. This will _not _turn into a common brawl. As I mentioned, I came here to give Faith some news, some reassurance that she had not killed an innocent man in that alley. Last night, while helping my staff clean Allen's office, I discovered communications – emails and taped phone calls – between him and a demon named Balthazar. I'm sure you know the name; you are the experts in evil, after all. My Deputy Mayor was _helping _those vampires, and he wasn't in that alley by chance. He was there to kill Buffy and Faith."

Yanking away from the Mayor's hold, Faith spun to stare at him.

"You didn't murder Allen Finch, Faith," the Mayor repeated softly. "You did your job. You stayed alive and eliminated a threat to Sunnydale. The Council has no right to keep you here or to make you pass any tests. The newspapers will be full of the story in the morning. Everyone will know the truth. Go. Pack a bag for tonight. We'll buy whatever else you need tomorrow."

Faith couldn't stop smiling. She was free. Free of the Council. Free of Wes. Free from the stupid rules. "Be right back," she told him. After all, she had a bag already packed and waiting in her closet.


	23. Chapter 23

Dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, Tara curled into the corner of the Summers' couch and stared at the television. Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage didn't hold her interest; unfortunately, she hadn't felt comfortable hiding out in the guest room. It was far too early to sleep and she hadn't packed anything to read or study. Her plan had been to stay at the Slayer House and maybe spend time with Faith, not spend the night at Buffy's.

"You look like Buffy staked your puppy," Joyce said. She muted the volume on the television and turned so she sat facing Tara at the other end of the couch. The Inquisition was apparently about to start. "What's wrong, honey?"

Tara briefly considered running for safety. In her experience, mothers were more dangerous than any horde of vampires roaming the city. Joyce might be Buffy's mother, but Tara didn't really know her. And even if she did, she still wouldn't be able to talk about her problems with Maxie and Faith. "No, no puppy. No stake, either." She tried to tease Joyce away from any further questions. It had been a long day, filled with too many ups and downs. If Joyce pushed too hard, Tara was afraid she'd break down and cry.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm free. And I don't get too upset if you ignore my advice." Joyce's smile was wry enough to wring a laugh from Tara. "Buffy is very stubborn. She _says _it's because she's a Slayer and it's part of the job. I think she simply doesn't want to listen to her mother. I'm used to being ignored. Or worse, told I have no idea what I'm talking about."

Pieces of Buffy and Joyce's earlier conversation suddenly made sense. "Let me guess," Tara murmured, "you told Buffy to stop pushing Xander away?"

"Oh my God, yes." Joyce threw her hands up in the air. "That boy worships the ground Buffy walks on. He's been part of the family since we moved to Sunnydale; long before the bond formed. I bought invitations for the collaring ceremony the second I knew they were bondmates - and Buffy told me I was..." Her head tilted and Joyce frowned in an effort to remember. "That's right. I was old and meddling and I needed to stay out of her life. She could make her own decisions."

Ouch. Tara winced in belated sympathy.

"I learned a long time ago, Tara," Joyce continued. "You can't force anyone to do something they don't want. Subs, Slayers, daughters. All irrelevant. You have to state the options and possible consequences and then step back. Thankfully, Xander was loyal and patient enough to wait for my daughter to wake up and see what was dangling in front of her nose."

Loyal and patient. Maybe Tara should get Xander to teach her those skills. She'd need them in spades to wait for Faith.

"There you go frowning again. Buffy isn't here. And you said you had no puppy," Joyce reminded Tara.

Goddess, Joyce was relentless. And Tara knew she'd never be able to remain silent if she stayed here for further interrogation. Joyce would know all of her secrets; Tara would offer them all up. "I...I'm t-tired," she lied badly. Even Tara heard the lack of truth in her statement. "Maybe I should..."

Joyce wasn't buying her story either. Tara watched Joyce's eyes narrow and froze like a sub caught wiggling during Corner Time. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm not going to turn you over my knee." With a pout that made her seem far closer to Buffy's age, Joyce slumped back against the couch arm. "Alright. Fine. I'll stop asking questions. I'll just sit over here, quietly, and watch the rest of the movie." As if to prove her sincerity, Joyce unmuted the television.

"Oh, stop. Please, please stop." Tara broke. She was no match for Joyce. Mom Mode was soul destroying. Holding her hands up in surrender, Tara said reproachfully, "You win. I'll tell you whatever you w-want to know."

"Whatever I want, huh?" Joyce actually turned off the television this time. That's when Tara realized how very quiet it was in the room. Just her and Joyce. Alone. "Honey, if I really tortured all our guests before tucking them into bed, Buffy would have staked me years ago. Look at you. You can't get any farther away from me unless you get up and leave the room."

True. Sad, yet true. "I'm overreacting, aren't I?"

"Maybe a little," Joyce allowed. "Xander calls this place Casa de Summers. We're the unofficial second Slayer House of Sunnydale. If you yelled for help – or even whispered it – my daughter would be down those stairs ready to save you. It wouldn't matter that I'm her mother. She'd pick me up, twirl me over her head with one hand, and throw me into the nearest wall."

"Good to know." Imagining the tiny Buffy twirling Joyce over her head like a cartoon superhero helped Tara grow more comfortable. "So 'help' is the house safe word?" she teased.

Joyce's chuckle made Tara smile in response. "Hank, my sub, travels most of the time. Until Xander moved in, we didn't need a safe word. I'll have to make sure to tell Buffy…" She winked and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest. "Better now?"

"Better, yes." But Tara still needed a crutch to answer the questions she knew Joyce would ask. Getting up, she roamed around the room. Maybe the movement would keep her mind too preoccupied to worry anymore.

"Buffy's told me a lot about you, Tara." Joyce's voice followed Tara as she wandered toward the fireplace mantle. Framed photos filled the long wooden beam. "You're a witch?"

At least Joyce had started simple. Tara had covered this particular topic so often in the past few days that it was easy to answer. "Hereditary. My mother was a witch, too." And, because it was a logical next question, Tara said, "I just joined the Council this morning. I'll be taking over the introduction to magic sessions." Picking up one of the photos, Tara stared at Willow, Xander, and Buffy. They were arm in arm and grinning madly at the camera. They looked so young and happy. The next photo was Buffy alone. She was a child. Dressed in… Was that tights? And ice skates? Tara remembered Buffy's admission that she'd wanted to be in the Ice Capades.

"That's my favorite shot of her," Joyce said. Tara turned to see her stretched out on the couch, gaze far away with memory. "She wanted so desperately to be a skater. The Ice Capades," she said, echoing Tara's thoughts. Then Joyce blinked, coming back to the present. "Fate has a funny way of changing your mind, though. Buffy had to give up skating when she was Called three years ago."

Poor Buffy. Setting the picture down, Tara regarded Joyce and asked, "What's it like? Having a Slayer for a daughter?" She wanted to know how Joyce dealt with the constant danger to Buffy. The late-night battles and possibly fatal war wounds.

"Horrifying." Joyce shrugged when Tara stared at her in disbelief. "If you hadn't wanted to know the truth, you wouldn't have asked. It's the most terrifying thing ever. I worry all the time. Every time she goes out."

"H-How do you cope?" Tara didn't want to become some weak, clinging Domme when Faith went on patrol.

"I got involved." Laughing at Tara's wide-eyed expression, Joyce explained. "Buffy's job will always scare me, but being part of the research crew and support staff means I get a chance to help. To keep Buffy safer."

Tara nodded in agreement. It made sense. Being part of the Council would empower her to keep Faith safe. She'd made the right decision today. Completing the Trial, joining the Council. She'd be at Faith's side, for research _and _patrol.

"Is that why you did it?" Joyce asked. She must have somehow read Tara's mind; her comments eerily followed Tara's inner pep talk. "Is that why you joined the Council? Is your submissive a Slayer or another witch?" She gestured at Tara's cuff. "Lydia and Janna both say no one joins the fight without a reason. What's…"

A phone rang somewhere in the house, saving Tara from answering.

"Come on. We can grab drinks and snacks while I get this. Maybe Xander and Buffy will come out of the Love Den and join us." Joyce hopped off the couch and strode out of the room.

Follow or hide until Joyce forgot that final question? Sighing, Tara trudged after Joyce. Why not? She'd already done so many thing she'd feared today. What was one more?

Luckily, Joyce was on the phone when Tara pushed open what proved to be the kitchen door. She took a seat at one of the barstools at the large island and pretended not to listen to the one-sided phone conversation.

"I'm sorry, Rupert. Buffy's upstairs." Tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear, Joyce winked at Tara and began pulling glasses from a cabinet. "Is something wrong? You sound… What?" One of the glasses thudded to the counter, and Joyce gripped it so tightly Tara saw her knuckles whiten. "Damn. I mean, it's better for Faith, but…"

Faith. Tara's head snapped up, her eyes locked on Joyce. What was better for Faith? Joyce kept talking. None of her words made sense. They didn't connect with anything. They weren't _about Faith_. Just platitudes about how things would be better. Different. It was a miracle Tara didn't rip the phone from Joyce's hand and demand her own answers from Giles.

Instead, she stared unblinkingly at Joyce and waited until she hung up before demanding, "What happened to Faith?" Tara wasn't thinking of anything except Faith; she made no effort to pretend only polite interest. The question rang with authority and Dominance. It carried all the worry of a Domme for her submissive.

Joyce's gaze sharpened.

"Mom? I heard the phone. Giles is the only one who ever calls this late. What did he want?" Buffy and Xander had slipped into the kitchen without Tara noticing. "Hello?"

Without glancing away from Tara, Joyce said, "Rupert called to tell you that Faith left."

No! Tara bit back her automatic protest and pushed her awareness through the link. She couldn't let Faith run away. She couldn't feel her, though. Nothing. Not even a stray thought or emotion. The link was dark. Was it her imagination that the bond was even narrower and more twisted than before?

"I have to go after her. I have to find her before the retrieval team. Wes'll deactivate her for sure this time." Buffy spun stiffly and started for the door.

"No, honey. Faith didn't run away." Joyce walked slowly across the kitchen and placed a hand on Tara's shoulder. "She's fine. She didn't run away," she repeated. "The Mayor came to visit the House. Apparently, the Deputy Mayor was working for a demon and was trying to kill you in the alley. They have proof. Faith left the Council to work for the Mayor, and Giles had to let her go."

* * *

"I thought about asking you to move in with me, Faith." The Mayor hadn't brought his limo to the House. However, the new-model sedan was just as clean on the inside. He'd even climbed into the back seat with her instead of sitting up front with the driver. "But I was afraid the good people of Sunnydale might get the wrong idea. Small-minded people, Faith. That's what some of my citizens are. So I have another plan. I hope you like it." He grinned, a mischievous boy in a man's body, as the car parked in front of an apartment building.

The driver got out and opened the Mayor's door. He slid out. "Come on. Let me show you my big surprise. I can't believe this. I hoped and hoped for this moment."

Faith got out and looked around. They were a few blocks from Buffy's house and Miller's Woods. She didn't waste too much time gawking, though. The Mayor fairly danced with impatience on the sidewalk. Shouldering her bag, she followed him inside.

"I found this place by accident. Now that you're here, it's like Fate had a hand in it. Fate must have known what I'd need." Richard babbled throughout the elevator ride to the third floor. Faith almost asked him if he'd ever met Willow. When the elevator announced their arrival and the doors slid open, he grabbed Faith's hand and dragged her down the hallway.

He released her long enough to unlock the only door at this end of the hall. Shoving the door open, Richard stepped to one side and gestured for Faith to go inside.

With slow, hesitant strides, Faith did – and then stopped a few paces into the large apartment. All the lights were on. They lit up the open living space, the gleaming appliances in the kitchen, and bounced off the skylight that made up the ceiling for one whole side of the main room. "What is this?"

"Your apartment, Faith." Richard held out his hand, and the key to the apartment dangled in front of her.

Faith automatically took the key. The metal was warm and heavier than she'd expected.

Watching her with a pleased smile, Richard said softly. "Take a look around. Tell me what you think. If it's not good enough, we'll tour some other complexes tomorrow."

Not good enough. The Mayor was crazy. Faith's childhood home in Boston had been so small it would have fit in the _kitchen _here. It wasn't only the size, though. Richard had thought of everything. The apartment was fully furnished with overstuffed leather furniture. A large television and gaming console dominated the living room. A heavy bag hung from the ceiling in a wood-floored alcove.

The more Faith saw, the more she fell in love with _her apartment_.

"Check out the bedroom." Richard had let Faith explore the airy living space alone. Now he followed her down a short hallway.

The bedroom was tucked into the very back of the apartment. It, too, was already furnished. A massive bed covered with a dark blue comforter took up one wall. Sitting right in the middle of the mattress was a wicker basket. Faith peered at it. Nestled amid oranges, apples, and bananas was a dagger.

Faith pulled it out, admiring the perfectly-balanced weight of the weapon. The blade was dual-edged and narrowed just before flaring into sharply pointed quillons.

"Welcome home, Faith," Richard murmured from behind her.


	24. Chapter 24

Sitting across the desk from Richard, Faith tried to follow his conversation. It wasn't easy. Or interesting. "I understand, Bob. I do. Graffiti is expensive and difficult to remove." Glancing up, he caught Faith's eye and grimaced comically. She loved that about him. He never took anything too seriously.

"It's not about the money!" Bob's voice was loud and clear through the speaker on Richard's phone. "It's about catching these damned kids. I've had officers patrolling the area for weeks, but they never see anyone." There was a loud bang. Bob must have smacked his desk or thrown something into a wall.

Faith rolled her eyes. It was just graffiti. She stifled a bored sigh and shifted in the chair. If Richard didn't get off the phone soon, Faith was going to go crazy. She'd been trapped inside all day. No sun. No gym. Nothing but listening to him take calls or watching him sign documents. Her leg bounced with repressed energy. The energy grew with no outlet. Her other leg bounced. Faith shifted in the chair a second time before refocusing on the Mayor.

"...schedule more officers tomorrow. Overtime isn't in the budget, I'm afraid. In fact, I'm getting pressure from the City Council to make cutbacks to the force," Richard said. "And before you say anything, I know it's not the right solution. It's the last thing we need to do. Our crime rate is already too high."

Bob cleared his throat. "I know you'll do what you can." He was far more subdued now. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll do what I can about the graffiti and let you get back to work."

The speaker went dead, and the room grew silent.

"I thought he'd never shut up." Stretching his arms over his head, Richard yawned. "My gosh! It's lunchtime already, and I've gotten nothing done. I had this great plan, Faith. I swear. I was going to introduce you to everyone before taking you shopping. You need more clothes. I whisked you away with literally nothing more than the clothes on your back. But I'm stuck. I can't leave. I have more mind-numbing meetings starting in just a few minutes."

He stood up and hurried around the desk to Faith. "Don't judge your new job from what you've seen today. In fact, I have a special project for you. It's not big. Just a little information gathering for now. But I think it's right up your alley."

"Information, huh?" Please, not digging through big dusty books. Faith _hated _research.

"I'm hurt, Faith. I can tell what you're thinking." His voice went from its normal baritone to a squeaky falsetto. "Richard, I don't want to be inside with a bunch of books. I'm a Slayer. I want to run around Sunnydale killing evil things."

Faith tried to hide her grin – and failed. "You got that ESP shit…um, stuff, don't you?

"If only." Richard dropped into the chair next to Faith and propped his feet on his desk. "If that had been true, my friend Allan wouldn't have betrayed me."

That had to have hurt. "I'm sorry," Faith told him. "What was he trying to do with the vamps? I mean, they don't usually do much with humans except Turn 'em or drain 'em." Could a human use the amulet she and Buffy had retrieved for Giles? What would Finch have used it for?

"Not your fault. Not your fault at all." Rubbing his eyes with both hands, Richard was silent for a moment. Then he clapped his hands. "Enough gloom and doom. It's your first day, and I need to tell you about your first project. It _is _about books," he said, pointing at Faith. "But you won't have to read a single one. All I need you to do is find them."

Find books. "Like, go to the library?" That was as bad as researching in Faith's opinion.

"Oh, no. These aren't normal books. I found a reference to a collection of books, the Books of Ascension. Allan was planning to buy them from a broker in town. I need you to find him. From the few notes I found, the broker's a demon named Skyler."

"No problem. You want them books, I'll get 'em for you." And maybe work off some energy killing the demon that had them.

"Excellent." Richard stood and straightened his suit jacket. "The key to running a city, Faith, is having the right people in the right positions. I've needed you in my organization for a long time. Thankfully, those idiots at the Slayer House didn't see what a treasure they had. I do." He nodded firmly. "I most certainly do. Now, let's talk strategy. I want to make sure…"

The phone rang.

Faith watched Richard's jaw tighten in response. Apparently, he really wanted to discuss the strategy phase. It wasn't her favorite thing; she'd put up with it because he thought it was important. "No big, Boss. I'll take a walk, grab some lunch. What time should I head back for the briefing?" He looked so miserable as the phone rang again. She felt sorry for him – just not enough to stay inside while he sat through another conference call.

"Six? I will unplug the phone and lock the door to anyone except you." With a happier smile, Richard picked up the phone. "We'll go to dinner and talk some more about your fact finding mission, Faith. Enjoy yourself today. This is Mayor Wilkins," he said into the phone.

Faith left him to his call. She was raring to go now. Sunnydale beckoned. At least, it did until the Mayor's snapping fingers halted her a few steps from the door. When she turned back, Richard waved a handful of bills at her.

He didn't need to give her money. Faith dug out her wallet and showed him the unspent fifty from their first meeting.

Richard apparently didn't care. "Could you hold on for just a minute?" he asked the person on the phone. "I just need to take care of one last item." Punching a button on the phone console, he shook his head at Faith. "Don't make me come over there and stuff this in your pocket. If you won't take it as a gift, consider it an advance on your first paycheck."

A paycheck. Faith hadn't even thought about that. She had a real job; real jobs came with real salaries. "An advance," she told the Mayor. "You already gave me money _and _the apartment, Boss. I'll earn everything else."

"Of course you will. You don't have some made up job with no responsibilities." Richard tucked the cash into Faith's hand. "Go enjoy yourself. I bet you've been locked up in that Slayer House for weeks." Picking up the phone again, Richard punched the same (now blinking) button on the console. "Thanks for holding. Let's get down to business."

Turning away, Faith wandered out of the office and into the bright afternoon sunlight.

* * *

Unlocking the front door, Tara walked into the quiet house. She'd chosen the timing for her return deliberately. Joyce had been hip deep in getting Buffy and Xander off to school. And Trish and Maxie both had early classes on Monday. Tara wasn't ready for another confrontation. The news about Faith had left her reeling. All she wanted was some peace and quiet and a private place to cry.

Faith was gone.

Tara knew, intellectually, that Faith hadn't run away. That she was still in Sunnydale. And Faith hadn't run from Tara. She didn't have a clue Tara was anything more than a shy, awkward woman she'd talked to a few times.

Somehow, though, none of that logic mattered. Joyce's announcement the previous night had punched a hole in Tara's chest. She'd sat numbly while Buffy had ranted.

"_She can't work for the Mayor. She's a Slayer!" Buffy flung out her arms and then gasped. She moved much slower as she lowered her arms. "She can't leave, Mom. Giles has to bring her back."_

_Tara agreed. Only, in her mind, Giles would have nothing to do with Faith's return. She would. Faith was her submissive. How could she have made a decision like this without asking Tara about it? Tara was so far gone in confusion and a growing sense of betrayal, she didn't register the fact that Faith wasn't really her sub. Nor that Faith had no need to get her approval for anything she did. _

_All Tara cared about at that moment was bringing Faith back. _

"_After all we did for her…" Buffy had run out of steam. She slumped onto the stool next to Tara. "We put ourselves out there for her over and over again, Mom. And tonight, I…" Her eyes darted to Tara and the comment was never completed. _

Faith had left after Tara had faced her fears and taken the Trial. Tara was now a member of the Council that Faith had spurned. The Council…Tara…Faith had turned her back on them both.

Feeling as fragile as spun glass, Tara closed and locked her bedroom door, closed the blinds, and curled up beneath the comforter. She wanted to go back in time, back to before. Before the Winter Social and the all-encompassing changes to her life.

Before Faith.

Despite the sunlight leaking through the wooden blinds, the room grew impossibly darker. Gloom settled around Tara's heart like a shroud. She'd obviously failed somewhere. Missed one of the tests Althenea had mentioned or made a wrong decision. She'd failed Faith. Staring blindly into the shadows, Tara examined everything she'd done in the past two weeks.

Where had everything gone wrong?

Tara might have wallowed in misery all day if someone hadn't rapped lightly at the bedroom door. "Tar?" Trish called softly. "Are you there?"

"Go away," Tara answered. She didn't want to talk to anyone. Not until she'd found her mistake – and maybe a way to fix it.

"Please, Tara. Please open the door." There was a rustle and then the door handle wiggled as Trish tried to open it herself. "I know you're probably still angry. And…and I don't blame you. But please open the door anyway."

She wasn't going away. Trish had never been good at giving up. Climbing out of bed, Tara shuffled to the door and turned the push-lock. "Come in," she said ungraciously as she stomped back to the bed. She sat with her back to the headboard and hugged a pillow. Protection and much needed comfort all rolled into one. "What do you want?"

"To talk." Although Trish hesitated for a second in the doorway, she squared her shoulders and walked to the bed.

Talking was the last thing Tara wanted to do right now. "No." She had nothing to say to Trish at the moment, and she didn't want to hear about Maxie or the scene from yesterday.

Trish recoiled as if Tara had smacked her. "I…" Moving woodenly, Trish backed away.

What was she _doing? _A sob tore from Tara's throat. Trish was her friend. Her first and best friend. Tara covered her face with the pillow, trying to muffle the hoarse, ripping sounds.

Proving she was a better person than Tara, Trish sat next to Tara and pulled her into a tight hug. "Oh,Tar. I've got you. It'll be alright. I promise."

Would it be alright? That single question fueled Tara's tears until finally, the well ran dry. Hiccupping breaths shook Tara as she struggled to bring her emotions back under control. She was dimly aware of the hand stroking up and down her back and the way Trish gently rocked them back and forth on the bed.

"Guess I don't have to ask how your day went," Trish murmured.

It surprised a tired, rusty laugh from Tara. "No," she squeaked. "It pretty much sucked." Huddling in Trish's embrace, she poured out the story. "I really thought I had a chance, Trish. I did. Faith _responded _to me yesterday even if the bond wasn't there. And now… now she's gone," Tara finished. "She's gone." The tears tried to start up again. A few leaked from her eyes before petering out. Depression hovered around Tara like a specter.

"I thought you said Faith just took another job? Isn't she still in Sunnydale?" Trish rearranged them so they sat side by side against the headboard.

"She works for the Mayor now." And Tara would never see her. Never get to talk to her the way she had yesterday.

Trish apparently didn't understand Tara's problem. "I see. So you could call City Hall and ask her out to lunch tomorrow?"

"I…I…" Tara faltered.

"Or you could walk or drive over there and ask her in person," Trish pressed. "She isn't dead, Tara. She didn't move to the other side of the world. She didn't repudiate your bond. She took _another job_. Did you know Maxie's changed her major four times since we moved here? If I followed your logic, I'd be curled in a ball in my bedroom closet and never come out. Does Maxie's inability to make up her mind mean she's left me?"

Damn Trish. Damn her for making sense. Feeling like a fool, Tara mumbled a sullen, "No."

"It's hard, I know. The bond really messes with you," Trish continued. "The classes make it sound like a fairy tale. There's this perfect connection with your soulmate. Fate chooses the one person in all the world who'll complete you, and there is nothing and no one who can break it." Bumping Tara's shoulder, Trish turned her head and met Tara's eyes. "It's a lie, Tar. The bond is the most amazing thing ever, sure. The rest? The rest takes work. It doesn't matter that Maxie and I can feel each other's emotions or share our thoughts. No one can do that all the time. And even feeling her emotions doesn't mean I understand them. Or understand them correctly."

What Trish said made sense. It also didn't help Tara feel more positive about her non-relationship with Faith.

"Do you _want _a bond with Faith, Tara?" Trish prodded.

"Of course!" Tara snapped. "Faith needs me." Faith needed her. Faith, with that killer smile and the sharp mind. Faith with her confidence issues, who soaked up encouragement and praise.

Trish didn't respond. She waited.

For what? Tara frowned. Faith needed her, and that need filled some empty space in Tara's heart. Oh… Oh, Goddess. "I'm an idiot." It was a good thing Trish didn't verbally agree; although, Tara saw her nod at the statement. "This isn't all about me, is it?" What did Faith want? What did she really need? "I want a bond with Faith, Trish. I want it _so bad_. She's funny and smart and beautiful." Taking a deep breath, Tara finally got Trish's point. "And I'm willing to work to make her want and need me, too."

Trish rewarded her with a hug. "I know you will, Tar."

When Trish pulled away and chewed on her lip, Tara knew they weren't finished talking. "Trish?"

"I, uh, didn't think everything through. Maybe this isn't the best timing, but… Maxie's in the living room waiting for us." She chewed harder, and Tara expected to see blood on Trish's lip any second. "She needs you to forgive her for what she said."

Tara stood up and held out a hand to Trish. "I can do that." It wasn't a complete lie. Tara could forgive Maxie for what she'd said. Someday. It was unlikely that she'd ever _forget _Maxie's harsh comments. She helped Trish off the bed and followed her into the living room.

As Trish had said, Maxie was in the living room.

She'd neglected to mention that Maxie wasn't sitting on the couch or in the recliner. Instead, she knelt in the middle of the room. A row of punishment tools stretched in a line at her knees.

Glancing at Trish, Tara saw her resolute expression as she said, "Tara, I know what happened yesterday. Maxie confessed what she did and what she said to you. I have punished her for her actions."

Then why were there paddles and riding crops on the living room floor?

"However, Maxie hurt you, Tara." Each of Trish's words knotted Tara's stomach. "Please punish her for the pain she caused. Please choose one of the tools I've provided and help Maxie understand that her actions were wrong."

"Trish," Tara immediately protested. Then she stopped and actually thought about Trish's request.

_She needs you to forgive her_, Trish had said in the bedroom.

That's what it was all about. Need and forgiveness. As she walked closer and peered at Maxie, Tara knew the other girl didn't _want _another punishment. Not with the fresh collection of bruises already dotting the portion of her ass Tara could see. Tara had to be sure, though. Gently cupping Maxie's chin, she said quietly, "Look at me."

Only Maxie's eyes moved. She met Tara's gaze and Tara felt Maxie's involuntary shiver. There was reluctance in every line of Maxie's body. And absolute acceptance in her eyes.

So be it. Tara ignored her own pounding heart and the horrible memories from her childhood. She focused solely on Maxie. "Choose one of the items your mistress left out, Maxine." Tara couldn't do that. She couldn't deliberately pick a paddle over a crop. Maxie could, though. "And hold it up for her approval," she added, releasing her hold on Maxie and taking a step to one side.

Maxie's hand shook noticeably as she picked up the longest crop in the line.

Tara saw Trish's tight nod. Wonderful. She took the two-foot long crop in both hands. The leather-covered fiberglass was cool to the touch. Smooth. "Stand up, Maxine, and bend over the arm of the couch, please." The words felt wrong in Tara's mouth. Too big, too hard.

The crop slid in her hand until Tara slipped the leather loop at the end over her wrist. When Maxie was in place, Tara steeled her nerves and rested the crop across the middle of Maxie's ass. "I still don't understand why you thought you knew more than Fate, Maxine. Or why you thought my repudiating Faith would be better than a bond. Explain it to me, please." Bringing the crop back in a careful, horizontal line, Tara waited for Maxie's acknowledgement.

"Yes, Ma'am." The tiny whisper released the crop.

Tara snapped her wrist. With a sound halfway between a whistle and a hum, the crop shot forward and landed with a solid _thwack_.

Maxie's shrill cry of pain gripped Tara's heart in a tight fist.

"_Shut up! If you don't stop making all that noise, I'll gag you!" The next crack of the whip was sharper, and Tara covered her ears as her mother's scream echoed in the room._

"Why did you do it, Maxine?" Swallowed sobs pushed the words out in a staccato rush.

Tara watched Maxie's fingers tighten around the couch cushion and her ass waved from side to side for a second. "I got the information for you. To give to you." It was hard to separate Maxie's explanation from her crying. "That's all."

"It wasn't all, Maxie." The crop landed a second time, and Tara had to swipe her free hand over her face to wipe away her tears. "You said those things to deliberately hurt me." And Maxie had done a stellar job of it.

"After I talked to John…" Maxie turned her head. Peering at Tara through swollen, tear-stained eyes, she choked out, "I was afraid you'd end up in a bond like your parents. I didn't want you to get hurt, Tara. You're so…so good. You deserve to be happy."

Dropping the crop, Tara took a seat on the couch and pulled Maxie over the arm and into her lap. "Thank you for doing that, Maxie. Thank you for caring so much." Her tears mixed with Maxie's as they held each other and cried. "I forgive you."


	25. Chapter 25

The bar was a dark, gloomy contrast to the bright day outside. Faith blinked and paused just inside the entry to allow her eyes time to adjust. Sunnydale sure wasn't Boston. There were no themed decorations on the walls or throbbing bass from loud industrial rock music. Instead, the bar was quiet except for the low murmur of conversations. It did have the familiar stench of beer and bodily fluids, though. Hiding her distaste, Faith strode through the nearly deserted scene area for the bar shoved into a far corner.

"Jack and Coke," she told the bartender.

He looked at her in disbelief. "The last time you showed up, that Brit from the Slayer House threatened to get my liquor license revoked. You want to drink, you do it somewhere else. You want to hook up? The equipment's free."

Faith's hand was across the bar and tangled in his shirt in a flash. Slayer speed ruled. "I ain't working for the Brit no more."

The man behind the counter had Faith by a hundred pounds and a dozen years. He still froze like a mouse in front of a cat.

"You got two choices: the drink or pain." Faith unleashed the smile she normally reserved for vampires. She gave the bartender fifteen seconds before he reached for the booze. It might actually only have been less before a glass slammed onto the bar in front of her. Releasing his shirt, Faith stepped back and tapped her fingers on the smooth bar top while the bartender poured her drink. "Thanks. Knew you were a bright one." Since Faith wasn't looking for trouble - and she had money - she tossed a twenty down. "Line 'em up."

One after another, five glasses joined the first on the bar. "Anything else?"

"Nah. I'm good." More than good. Faith relaxed enough to smile and tack on a polite, "Thanks." Turning away, she leaned her back against the bar and scanned the play areas. One couple in a far corner. A scattering of single drinkers tucked into the nearly-hidden alcoves at the edge of the floor. Two pairs heading down the back hall to the private rooms.

Not a lot of action. It was too early, damn it. Faith tossed back her first drink, enjoying the burn and the sweet flavor masking the heavier liquor. She should have realized there would be slim pickings during the afternoon. A glance at her watch said there were still a few hours until her dinner with Richard.

"Aren't you a little young for the hard stuff?" A voice intruded on Faith's contemplation of time. The woman attached to the voice didn't look away when Faith glared in her direction. In fact, she smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. Muscles rippled in her arms and chest, casually displayed by a tight leather vest.

It took more than muscles to impress Faith. "You the booze police?" Daring the woman to stop her, she downed the second Jack and Coke. Her head buzzed in response.

"You didn't answer my question," the woman stated. Her gaze hardened, pinning Faith in place. "How old are you?"

A frisson of…something tugged at Faith. Straightening, she fought the emotion. Fought a rising need to lower her head and tell the woman, the Dominant, what she wanted to know. She wasn't some pushover submissive.

Moving in closer, right into Faith's personal space, the woman continued. "I think you've had enough, little girl."

The pet name stung. Faith started to protest but there was suddenly no air in the room. The temperature in the bar rose until she flushed and began to sweat before immediately chilling to Arctic levels. She sucked in a panicked breath. The woman was too close. _Too close. _She couldn't breathe. Faith jerked back, banging painfully into the bar.

"Easy." Expression intent, the woman slid back a step and watched Faith closely. "I won't hurt you unless you ask. Calm down. Eyes on me. Breathe." She waited until Faith's eyes rose, locking onto her. "Good girl. That's it. Breathe slowly."

Faith relaxed with each breath she took in time with the Dominant. As the panic faded the pressure inside Faith's chest and head expanded. The barroom grew a little hazy. It was like Faith floated a couple of inches off the floor.

"You back with me now?" The woman didn't crowd Faith again. She stood, completely relaxed and in control, a few feet away, patiently waiting for Faith's answer.

"Yeah." Faith's chin dropped an inch. Two. "Back off," she warned the woman. She wasn't looking to play. And she would _never _submit to this woman. All she wanted was a drink. Unfortunately, her warning lacked any bite. It was a mumble, at best. A pathetic whisper of sound, at worst.

"What was that?" Gentle mockery made Faith's skin burn, yet she didn't move. "Tell me what you want, little girl. If you really want me to leave you alone, I will."

No. Yes. Stay. Go. Faith's mind and body warred. Need mixed with confusion and a tendril of fear.

"_Hope those cuffs aren't too tight, girlie." Flushed and sweating, the john tightened the rigid metal handcuff until Faith cried out. She yanked on it anyway, desperate to get away, as the john stepped back and stared at her. "The bitch out front said you knew how to act. She lied. You ain't gotta clue. You better learn fast."_

_Faith barely heard him. She writhed and twisted; nothing she did made a difference. The only thing she accomplished was pissing off the john. _

"_Lesson Number One, you don't move unless I tell you. Got it?" Less than a second later his hand crashed into Faith's cheek. "Yes, Sir! You say 'yes, Sir,' when I tell you to do something or ask you a question."_

"Yes, Ma'am," Faith answered. The bar and her long ago bedroom overlapped into a waking nightmare. Barely breathing, she tensed, ready to flee or fight. Glasses rattled behind her and Faith jerked in response.

"Easy. Come on, kid. Take it easy." The woman's voice went from seductive to soothing. "No one here is going to hurt you." She kept talking, but the words went over, around, and through Faith. She didn't hear them. They were a soft buzz in the background as voices from her past echoed in her mind.

"_You like it when they hurt you, don't you, little slut." Cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling where a blue-gray cloud hovered. "Maybe I should get you one of them bracelet things; 'cept I'd lose out on the ones wantin' __**you **__to do the hurtin.'" Faith's mother coughed, each exhale rattling in her throat._

Wrenching her mind back to the present, Faith shoved past the woman and ran for the door. She ignored the shout from behind and dodged the bouncer as he moved to intercept her. By the time she hit the parking lot, Faith was at full Slayer speed. Each step took her away from the bar.

She couldn't outrun the memories, though. They followed her. Taunted her.

"_Somehow we missed her. The Spell isn't infallible, no matter what the witches say." Diana looked at Faith like she was gum stuck to the bottom of her high-heeled shoes. "It's my duty to turn her into a real Slayer; Quentin himself asked me to take her on as a personal favor."_

_Faith glared at her. She was in the room, damn it. She could hear everything Diana said to the man sitting behind the big desk. _

"_You want the full complement of tests?" The man's accent didn't match Diana's. He spoke slowly (to Faith), and the words bled together. _

"_Yes. If I'm going to have even a chance of success, I need to know everything. But I don't want the results sent to the Council. Send them to me, and I'll decide what to put in her file."_

Faith skidded to a halt, panting and covered in sweat. The sun beat down on her. The bright, cool day had turned blisteringly hot. Glancing around, Faith realized she'd run all the way through town. Sunset Ridge, shaded by towering trees and riddled with overgrown paths, sat in front of her. Steps unsteady, Faith walked into the wood. Birds chirped occasionally. And rustling all around indicated animals dashing for cover as she invaded their home.

Ignoring it all, Faith skirted the manicured grounds of Talisker House Bed and Breakfast. Eventually, she located the perfect spot. A grouping of tall rocks protected a patch of grass at the very edge of Smuggler's Bluff. Faith curled up there and watched the waves crash into the beach far below.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be going the other direction?" Buffy trotted down the stairs with most of her usual grace intact. There was still a hint of stiffness and extra care as she skipped the final few steps in favor of a single leap. "You're running in, not out."

"I decided to break with tradition," Tara said solemnly. "Predictability is boring, don't you think?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't let Giles hear you say that. He'll set you up as a weapons instructor and turn you loose on the advanced 'what would you use if' lesson." Her shudder indicated this was a fate worse than death. "If you ever get the urge to lecture me on how a cereal spoon can be used to kill a vampire, warn me, OK?"

"I'm pretty sure you're safe, Buffy." Tara put her hands on her hips and gave Buffy her best Dominant glare. "But I might start on the lecture about only going on patrol when you're healthy and uninjured." Her right hand snapped up, forestalling the lie she knew was coming. "Don't. I'm not stupid. You're not recovered from whatever happened last night. Do I have to tell Mr. Giles?" It was a bluff. Not to mention Giles had to be aware that Buffy wasn't a hundred percent.

"Oooh! Scary Domme Face." Raising her arms over her head, Buffy stretched. She was good, but not good enough to keep Tara from noticing the way the skin next to her eyes tightened. Buffy was still in pain. "Save that for your bondmate, Lady Tara. I'm immune – and I'm fine. Besides, I won't have to patrol alone for long. Watcher Wes will have a brand new Junior Slayer here to help me in a couple of days."

Tara wasn't backing down. "Can you wait until after my class? I can go with you."

"No can do, Tara. Giles has completed his pre-patrol briefing. I'm briefed and chock full of informational goodness. Now it's time to go forth and kill undead things." Buffy didn't move away, though. Instead, she gave Tara an intense once-over. "But I could be convinced to give the vamps and demons a short break if you need to talk. You look like you've had a long day."

As much as Tara liked Buffy, she wasn't ready to share her afternoon. She mimicked Buffy's stretch. "I'm fine," she said and dared Buffy to call her on the lie.

"That's not funny." Buffy pouted for a minute. "I used to think you were nice."

"Hi, Pot. I'm Kettle," Tara said softly. "And I'm not always nice. I _am _a Dominant, after all. Sometimes that means giving a...sub what they need and not what they think they want." She wasn't going to back down. Buffy was not up to patrol. "You want to go out alone. But what do you really need?"

Buffy lost her smile. In fact, if Tara hadn't been prepared for her reaction, she might have actually stepped back at the cold, lethal glare she received. "You think I need your permission?"

The atmosphere in the foyer had turned on a dime. Buffy and Tara were inches apart. "That isn't what I said, sweetie." Tara wasn't looking for a Dominant showdown. "I'm worried about you, that's all. I know you have to go out." With Faith gone, there were no other Slayers in Sunnydale. "Can you at least wait until after my class? I'd be happy to go with you."

"I can go with her, Tara." Xander interrupted their standoff from the living room entry. "If that's alright with you, Buffy?"

Buffy was about to refuse. "Xan, we talked about this."

It must be something in the air. Buffy really had a hang up with taking someone on patrol. Tara deftly stepped in and interrupted. "Oh, thank you, Xander. I've never been on patrol. Magic is only helpful if you're not too busy running – and gasping – to chant a spell. Janna said you were a big part of the team. You'll do Buffy more good." So there, she silently dared Buffy. Turning her head slightly, she winked at Xander and enjoyed his quickly-smothered grin.

"Buffy?" he asked. Tara wanted to smack him; he was ruining her perfect setup. But she understood his reasoning. Buffy was his Dominant, and they'd already nearly ruined their relationship over his being injured on a patrol.

Or was he? Buffy's resolute expression had faltered. Sidestepping Tara, she walked over and kissed him softly. "I don't want you to get hurt again, Xan."

"I know." Xander raised his hand, stopping just short of touching Buffy's cheek. His fingers hovered between them. "But I don't understand. I got hurt once, because I decided to be stupid and manly and tackle a vampire on my own. I'm sorry, Buffy. I was sorry then. It's different now. I want to patrol with you again, like I used to with you and Willow. I promise I'll hide behind you when the vamps come out. And you know I'm really good at running away."

Unwilling to interrupt or intrude further, Tara leaned against the staircase and waited for Buffy to admit Xander was right. "What if something happens?"

So much for that. Tara stifled a sigh at Buffy's stubborn response.

Luckily, Xander was persistent. "Buffy, if I let you collar me, are you going to lock me up in the house and never let me out? I love you. I'm _yours_." There was no hint of goofy Xander as he continued. "I'm not helpless, though. You know that. You've taught me everything I know about self-defense and fighting. You helped me whittle my first stake. Let me go with you. Let me be the guy you fell in love with before the bond got in the way."

He was so sweet. Tara's eyes misted and she held her breath against a sniff.

"I do love you," Buffy said quietly. "I'm also an idiot, aren't I?"

Proving he was smart as well as sweet, Xander didn't say anything. He simply stood and calmly waited for Buffy to come to her senses.

"Fine." Tara figured Buffy wasn't as put out as she sounded. Not if Buffy's tiny grin was any indication. "We need to get you some stakes before we go." Taking Xander's hand, Buffy pulled him toward the stairs. "Happy now?" she asked Tara with a watered-down glare.

To respond or not to respond? Tara considered the wisdom of silent, stoic victory for less than a heartbeat. "Yes." Smiling sunnily, she added, "So are you." Buffy's mock made Tara laugh. "Be safe, both of you. And wish me luck. I'm facing something almost as scary as demons: my first Magic 101 class."

"Watch out for Noreen," Xander called out as he and Buffy climbed the stairs. "She started a fire last week."

A fire. In a beginning magic class. What had Tara gotten herself into? Steeling herself for magical mayhem, she strode through the House and into the back yard. New faces populated the tables and chairs on the patio. Disappointment struck Tara hard and fast. Faith wasn't there; wouldn't be there to share a table and peace and quiet after a long day.

"Hey, Tara, right? I'm Amy. You probably don't remember." An auburn-haired young woman approached and held out her hand. "Althenea commandeered you before we had a chance to talk. I was there with…"

"Michael. Of course I remember." Tara shook Amy's hand. "Are you here for the class? The discussion I interrupted wasn't beginner level. Anything by Aldis is dense." She smirked. "And you were holding your own against Althenea."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Please. The old biddy had us on the run. I was _so _glad Janna dragged you over to say hello."

"Well, you looked fine to me," Tara assured her. She didn't mention she'd been so nervous when Janna had done the introductions she hadn't paid much attention to Amy. Althenea had scared her to death. "Come on. Let's go on to class. I'll grill you more later."


	26. Chapter 26

Tapping hesitantly on the door, Faith waited for Richard to look up. His desk was covered in paper and piles of file folders. It reminded her of Giles' desk every evening when she'd come in for pre-patrol briefings. Giles had always been buried in paperwork: Watchers' Diary entries, patrol after action reports, and training schedules.

She scowled. This wasn't at all like her time with the Council. This was completely different.

"Be careful, Faith. Your face might freeze like that," Richard teased. He imitated her expression for a second before smiling. "Come on in and close the door, please. I sent everyone home already but you never know who's lurking out there ready to interrupt us again." As Faith made a show of closing - and locking - the door, he continued. "I've ordered dinner for us. It should be here soon. The best pizza in Sunnydale. For now, though..." He broke off suddenly and peered at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Faith lied quickly. She sauntered across the room and sat in the same chair as earlier. "What's this job you got for me? I'm ready for action." If it didn't involve beating up on vampires and demons, otherwise known as vampire therapy, she'd have to go hunting later.

Richard wasn't happy with her response. His eyes turned cold for a second, and Faith tensed. "I expect a great deal from you, Faith. Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure. At the top of the list is honesty. Don't ever lie to me."

"Yes, Sir." Faith huddled in the chair, eyes on the worn carpet next to her feet. Her face and neck felt hot. "I'm sorry. I just...ya' know, I didn't want to bother you," she babbled. "You got important things to worry about." Richard was mad at her. Faith had never cared how other people felt about her actions before. But she hated the way he was looking at her, as if he didn't want to know her anymore. As if she'd disappointed him. Her stomach cramped and she shrank farther into the chair.

"There is nothing more important than you, Faith." Richard came around the desk and sat next to her. Gripping Faith's hand, he waited until she glanced uneasily up at him. "You aren't just an employee. I care about you, about what happens to you," he told her earnestly. "It would kill me if anything happened to you. Please don't shut me out or hide things from me."

Faith stared into his eyes. He never looked away. He wasn't lying; people who lied never met your eyes like that. Richard really cared about her. The burn of embarrassment shifted to a warm glow-y feeling in her chest. "I won't do it again, Sir. I really am sorry." It was _Faith _who dropped her eyes. She couldn't stand to see his reaction as she admitted, "Kinda started thinking about Boston this afternoon, before the whole Slayer thing. Not the best memories, that's all."

"Poor Faith. You've been through so much." Richard squeezed her hand. "How about I give you something better to think about? Something right up your alley?"

That sounded perfect. "Like what?" Faith asked.

"Like hunting a demon for me." Releasing Faith's hand, he leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of the desk. "When I was searching through Allan's things, I found a reference to a demon he did business with. This demon has a collection of very old books, the Books of Ascension. And Allan was going to buy them, use whatever was in those books to kill me and take over Sunnydale. I want you to get them, Faith, before that demon finds someone else with ideas of conquest."

"No problem, Boss." Faith was a loser at many things in life. Stealing some books from a demon wasn't one of them. "You got a name for the demon?"

"The emails were signed by a Skyler. The demon? Or another human minion like Allan? I say demon. The whole thing sounds too shady for most humans." Richard shrugged – then jumped up when someone knocked at the door. "Hold that thought, Faith." Bounding across the room, he grabbed a stack of pizza boxes from the security guard in the hallway and closed the door again. "I wasn't sure what you liked so I got one of everything. Whatever we don't eat tonight will make a perfect late night snack for my favorite Slayer. I'm sure you'll be hungry after tracking down that pesky demon with my books."

* * *

"Don't push so hard." Tara tilted her head and Felt the energy Noreen had gathered. "The size of the object you move doesn't matter. A grain of sand weighs the same as an anvil to the mind."

"_If you keep straining like that, sweetheart, you'll break something." Eyes twinkling, Tara's mother perched on the battered sofa in one corner of the attic. "You don't have to be Arnold Schwarzenegger. A grain of sand weighs the same as an anvil to the mind. If you've Centered yourself correctly…"_

"…root yourself to the Earth and extend the energy toward the box. Don't push. The magic will do the work for you," Tara continued, hearing her mother echo the same advice in her memories. She had been just like Noreen at one point. Well, Tara had never set anything accidentally on fire, but she'd wanted to do everything right the first time.

Sweat beaded Noreen's face and she trembled with effort. Letting her eyes droop, Tara peered at the other witch's magic with her Inner Sight. Noreen had cut back on the wall of power she'd gathered. The tendril she extended toward the box several feet away was still too large but wouldn't turn the cardboard into tiny bits of confetti.

With a nod, Tara moved away. She checked on every student, making mental notes of successes and opportunities. Concepts for the next class. Three of the eight witches were far beyond the "beginner" level. Not surprisingly, Amy was the best of the three. And Noreen, fiery mistakes and all, wasn't far behind. "One last thing before we end the session. Make sure you properly ground any remaining energy."

A few of the learners seemed surprised at the reminder; yet everyone carefully returned the unused power to the Earth. With a pleased smile, Tara took down the Warding around the room and dismissed the class.

"Not bad for your first night with the Council." Janna had monitored the class from the sidelines. Monitored. She'd rolled her eyes when she'd explained to Tara that the Council wanted to make sure Melody hadn't made a mistake about Tara's skills.

"I feel like I've single-handedly raised a mountain." Although she had done very little magic, Tara was exhausted. She wanted to sink to the floor and sleep for a week.

Janna threw her head back and laughed. "Really? Didn't you just teach an entire class of newbies that mental lifting doesn't take muscles?"

Of course, Janna had to remember that. "I lied shamelessly," Tara mumbled. "Magical lifting takes _tons _of magical muscles – and mine are weak and flabby." Glowering at Janna's continued laughter, she sighed and gave up. "Fine. Throw my own words back at me. I just never realized how hard it was to keep eight people all focused on the same thing. All the different personalities and ability levels. Passing the Trial wasn't as difficult."

Linking their arms, Janna pulled her out of the Workroom and locked the door. "I hate to do this to you since you're already so tired. Will says Buffy's back and has something new for us to research. I'm heading to the Library to help. Are you up to joining us?"

"If I fall asleep, promise not to put my hand in a glass of water." Stifling a yawn and thinking longingly of her comfortable bed, Tara followed Janna into the House and up to the third floor. It had to be her imagination, but Tara thought she smelled Faith's distinctive scent of leather and sweat. Unfortunately, Faith wasn't lounging in a chair or sprawled on the expensive Turkish rug in the massive Library.

"Good evening," Giles greeted them from the top of a rolling ladder. He held a large pile of books which he carefully carried down to the floor. "Although Buffy has already briefed me on her latest patrol, I have asked her to share it with the full group. She and Joyce should be here shortly." He flashed a quirky smile, the same one he'd given Tara the night of the Social. "I long ago learned that ignoring her need to eat large quantities of food at the end of a patrol was not in anyone's best interest. Please, make yourself comfortable, my dear, and we shall soon be started."

"He meant to say, 'sit down, Buffy will be back in a minute,'" Willow translated. "It always takes him a long time to get to the point." She curled up against Janna's legs when her bondmate took the same chair Faith had occupied for her study session with Tara.

The chair, and the way Willow nuzzled into Janna, hurt. Tara rubbed at her chest, where the pain emanated. "I understood Mr. Giles perfectly," she defended Giles – and winked at Willow to let her know it was not a rebuke.

"Thank you." Accent more clipped than before, Giles glowered playfully at Willow. "This lot does not appreciate the true Queen's English." With a disdainful sniff, he set the books down on the coffee table in the center of the room.

"We may not talk right, but we eat well," Buffy announced from the door. She breezed in, arms full of snack chip bags. Xander and Joyce followed with trays of drinks and other finger foods. "Welcome to your first research party, Tara. Get ready for excitement like you've never known and will never want to go through again."

Xander snickered. "She's not wrong. I've been doing this for two years, and it never gets any better."

"And yet you're still here, aren't you?" Willow stuck her tongue out at him.

"Good Lord. Children, please. I would prefer Tara _not _run away on her first official night with us," Giles snapped.

"Sorry, Giles," Willow, Xander, and Buffy responded in stereo.

Tara hid a grin at Giles' pained sigh. He was so funny, and Buffy and her friends played on his emotions perfectly. "Before I grow any older, would you please tell everyone what you found this evening?"

"Sure, Giles." Buffy dropped onto the love seat, and Xander (of course) took the spot right next to her. There might have been space to push a piece of paper between them. "I'd cleared a nest out of the Smithson crypt over in Restfield when this demon pops out from behind a tombstone. Just as I was about to behead him, he squeals and holds up his hand. Says he's been looking for me."

Even though it was her first night researching, Tara was fairly certain that wasn't normal.

"What did he look like, Buffy? I mean, did you recognize him?" Willow was already reaching for one of the books Giles had put on the table.

"It looked like a demon, Will. A horny demon." Buffy covered her face with both hands as Xander and Willow both hooted with laughter. Tara pressed her lips together to avoid joining in. "I meant the demon had horns on his head and a really bad beard," she grumbled when she finally reemerged from her hands. "He wanted to sell me some books."

"He was an encyclopedia salesman?" Joyce asked. "I thought they stopped making those when the Internet grew so popular."

"Yes, Mom. That's it. He wanted to sell me the complete A to Z collection from 1970. It was a special disco edition." Buffy threw up her hands. "Everyone's a comedian. If you'd let me finish, maybe you wouldn't have to ask so many questions." Buffy's narrow-eyed look dared anyone to comment.

They didn't.

"He said he'd give something called the Books of Ascension to me for five thousand dollars," Buffy finished. "

"That's a lot of money for some books." Willow opened the tome she'd taken and began flicking through the yellowed pages. "Ascension. It sounds familiar; I just can't remember from where."

Reaching across the table, Tara grabbed a book, too. She didn't know how these research gatherings worked. It was a fair bet, though, that hunting through the books was a big part of the process. Of course, there was no table of contents or index. Tara rubbed her eyes. No wonder Faith and Buffy ended up in brawls over the books. Tara gave serious thought to tackling Janna and going a few rounds to avoid reading each and every page.

"The price tag wasn't the weirdest part of the conversation," Buffy added as Tara resignedly started researching. "I mean, demons selling books isn't an every-night thing. But a demon selling books that he says the Mayor might want?"

Tara lost all interest in searching for references to the Ascension.

"Maybe he meant Allan Finch. He _was _working with Balthazar." Janna stroked her hand through Willow's hair, tickling the tips of her ears every so often and grinning when Willow jerked away and glared. "Could the books have something to do Balthazar's plan to use the amulet?"

"I still have a hook into the City Hall mainframe," Willow said. "Want me to dig around? It won't be hard to find those emails the Mayor said he had. That might give us more information."

Janna's stroking hand lifted in order to tap Willow firmly on the back of the head. "And land you in a federal prison for computer hacking."

"We…we could ask Faith?" Tara flinched when everyone looked at her. She hadn't meant to say anything out loud. "I mean, she works for the Mayor. She'd have plenty of opportunity to find out about the emails. And the books, too."

"Normally, Tara, that would be a very shrewd maneuver. I do not believe that Faith would welcome any overtures at this time. Her departure was less than amicable," Giles told her quietly. "And I believe, because of what has happened since Faith's arrive in Sunnydale, her loyalties are completely with the Mayor."

What Giles said made sense. Tara slumped back in her chair. "Right. I'm s-sorry."

"_Doamnă, _I don't think we have any choice." Willow got up on her knees and placed her hands pleadingly on Janna's knees. "I promise I won't leave anything for the Mayor or his staff to find. City Hall isn't big on cyber security. They never noticed when I hacked in the first time. I'll be in and out in no time."

Everyone pretended to be hard at work researching while Janna and Willow squared off. Tara flicked blindly through the book on her lap. They had to have answers. They had to know how the demon and the books were connected to the Mayor. What if there was something dangerous in those books? If the Mayor got the books, would that put _Faith _in danger? Tara reached for her bondlink again and nearly screamed when it remained blocked.

Tara was so intent on the bond she jumped when Willow stood up and grabbed her laptop from a backpack near the door. "Give me a few minutes to get in." Willow was flushed and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"We will concentrate on old-fashioned research while you begin, Willow." Giles picked up a new book and opened it. Then he waited until the rest of the group followed suit.

Tara lost track of the different names of demons, rituals, and apocalyptic events she viewed in book after book. Several times, she started to nod off – and then someone would shift or drop a book and she snapped awake.

Finally, when Tara was about to apologize and leave, Willow announced, "I've got something." She didn't continue, though. She merely stared at the laptop in silence.

"Do I need to encourage you to speak up, _dragă_?" Janna asked.

"No!" Willow immediately turned her attention back to the waiting group. "I just…it doesn't make any sense, Janna. I found the emails. Lots of emails. Most of them between Deputy Mayor Finch and a vampire named Vincent. Plans to use the amulet to bring Balthazar back to full power. I guess he's been a little less than he wanted since he supposedly died."

The flood of information was too quick for Tara. She struggled to make sense of what Willow had found and connect it to the Books of Ascension.

"Will," Buffy interrupted. "Cliffs Notes, please."

Tara wanted to hug her when Willow scowled and then acquiesced. "Anyway, I found the emails. There was only one reference to the Books of Ascension. Nothing about what they do or why the Mayor would want them."

"So we have nothing." Tara resisted the urge to cry and pulled another book from the table. The tall stack had shrunk to just a few final tomes. They were nearly out of places to find answers. Maybe they'd have to try Faith, after all. At least it would give her a reason to ask Faith out on a date.

"Oh, no. I do have something," Willow disagreed. "Just not anything about the Books. When I started reading the emails, I thought there was something funny about them. I checked the access and server logs. Those emails weren't written by Deputy Mayor Finch. In fact, they weren't even created until after he died."


	27. Chapter 27

"I really hate to ask ya' again," Faith said with absolutely no sincerity. She'd ask the same question all night if that's what it took. The vampire, though, might not find it so acceptable. Slamming his head into the tombstone, Faith waited until he'd spit more blood. "Where do I find the demon Skyler?"

His eyes burned with hatred. "I don't know..."

It was apparently difficult to lie when your face was pressed into stone. Faith grinned. The Mayor had been right. This job was fucking perfect for her. This was the third vampire she'd questioned tonight. So far, she had zero answers and two piles of dust. A third pile seemed likely. Few vampires were willing to take her brand of punishment to protect another demon. This vamp was clueless. In fact, why wait to finish him off? He wasn't going to give her what she needed.

Faith staked the vampire and dusted off her hands. "Where to next?" Her patrol loop had already covered Restfield, Shady Acres, and Wilkinson Memorial cemeteries. Pushing out with her senses, she hunted for more informants. Nothing. Scowling, Faith pushed farther. Damn it. Where were all the vamps?

It had to be Buffy's fault. She always patrolled early; she'd probably swept the cemeteries while Faith had been at dinner with the Mayor. Lucky for Faith, Buffy was the only other Slayer in town right now. She couldn't patrol everywhere. If Buffy had been in the cemeteries, she _hadn't _been in the warehouse district.

That was Faith's next stop. More options there anyway. Pocketing her stake, Faith jogged through town. The few people brave enough to be on the streets gaped at her, but she ignored them. Stupid townies. She wasn't even using half of her enhanced speed. Besides, they should be used to Slayers. Thanks to the Hellmouth, Sunnydale was hip-deep in demons and vampires. That meant Slayers.

To give them a thrill, Faith picked up her pace until she cleared downtown. She didn't want to wear herself out. There were vampires to dust and books to find. It wasn't until she crossed the railroad tracks that she realized where she was. The warehouse district. Her footsteps slowed.

This was where it had happened.

This was where she'd killed Finch.

"_Oh my God, Faith. He's human!"_

_Warm, sticky liquid coated Faith's hands. No. Not liquid. Blood. She stared as it poured from the man's chest. The man. The man with her stake in his chest._

The dark street wavered; gray dots floated in Faith's vision.

No, damn it. This wasn't happening. Finch was dead because he had been working with those Eliminati vampires. Forcing the memories back, Faith stumbled forward a few steps until her legs stopped shaking. She had work to do.

Finding vampires here was easy. Faith bypassed the alley where she and Buffy had fought the Eliminati. If she wanted to find lots of vamps as well as information, she had to go deeper into the warren of buildings. Faith needed to make a visit to Willy's. The demon bar was an unbelievable dive at the very edge of the warehouse district. Faith crept up on the unmarked entrance. It wouldn't do to scare away her best shot at answers. It was wasted effort. There were no patrons loitering in the alley.

That was no problem. She'd find plenty of vampires inside. Faith rushed the corrugated metal door. It came off its hinges with a resounding boom. Framed in the doorway, Faith smirked at the stunned demons huddled over their drinks at the bar or the scattering of tables in the dimly lit room. "Sorry about that," she announced.

Her words triggered an exodus. Tables and glasses hit the ground as the bar's patrons scrambled to safety through the various boltholes littering the room. Faith caught and staked a few. She didn't give chase, however. Her real target hadn't moved from his position behind the bar. Willy. A skinny, weasel-y vampire who knew everything about everyone, human _and _demon, in Sunnydale.

"Slayer," he muttered. Scanning the now-empty bar, he glared at her. "You're bad for business."

"'Least I didn't kill too many this time," Faith responded, twirling a stake in her right hand. "Might get 'em to come back later. If you're still here and not in a pile on the floor." Willy was undead and already pale. The only sign her threat had bothered him was his small, involuntary step away from the bar. "You run, I'll have to catch you. It won't go well."

"What do you want?" Willy's fangs were out now. If he wasn't such a coward, Faith thought, he'd have come across the bar at her.

Faith didn't answer right away. It was more fun to lean against the bar and watch Willy squirm. Seconds passed. Minutes. The stake, worn smooth with use, slid easily across her palms. Faith tossed it from hand to hand; Willy's yellow eyes tracked its movement. "I'm lookin' for a demon," she finally said. "Skyler."

Willy's eyes flickered away. "Never heard of him."

The stake flew from Faith's hands, nicking Willy's neck before shattering a bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind the bar. "Next time, I'm throwin' you." God, this was fun. Faith had to fight a grin. It wouldn't fit the image she needed right now. "How much does it cost to stock this place?"

A growl snuck past Willy's clenched teeth.

"Skyler," Faith reminded him. "You cough up where I can find him, I leave you and the bar in one piece. You don't…" Reaching out, she grabbed his shirt and yanked until he lay across the bar. "Your choice."

"I don't know." Faith pulled harder, lifting him off the bar. "Not for sure! I swear. I heard something about an abandoned house across the tracks. Not far from here, across from Two Pines Cemetery," Willy babbled.

"Always nice doin' business with ya', Willy." Grunting with effort, Faith chucked Willy backward – right into the shelf of liquor bottles. Glass and liquid rained down. "I hate to have to ask twice. Got it?"

Not waiting for a response, Faith took off. There were few houses near Two Pines. Only a few blocks from the warehouse district, it held more empty and overgrown lots than residences. She'd have Skyler and his books ready for the Mayor in no time.

Ten minutes later, Faith crouched outside the only house near the cemetery that set off her Slayer senses. Apparently, Skyler was a home body. That worked for Faith. With slow, careful strides, she crept along the side of the house. A hint of light leaked beneath the tightly closed shutters. Music played softly from inside. This was it. Unlike with Willy's, Faith didn't kick in the door. She didn't know the layout of the house or any possible escape routes. She needed the demon to stay completely unaware of her presence until she had him dead to rights.

Faith continued past the window. There had to be another way in. Not the front door. Too out in the open. There was a second window at the back of the house. No lights. No sounds from inside. And no way for anyone to see her break in. Faith took off her jacket and wrapped it tightly around her right arm, all the way to her shoulder. A quick jab with her jacket-covered elbow broke pane. She froze, waiting for movement in the house.

There was none. Clearing the jagged shards from the window frame, Faith carefully climbed over the sill. She followed the sounds of music through a dusty living room cluttered with furniture and down a narrow hallway. The light was easier to see here. It shone beneath a closed door on the left. Faith put her jacket back on and tried the doorknob. It turned easily, with no sound, and Faith quickly stepped inside.

The ugly, horned demon sitting in a faded recliner never looked up from the book in his lap. Faith scanned the room. It was filled with books. On the floor, the bed, on the one bookshelf in the corner. Skyler was a hoarder. "Hey," she said.

Skyler was out of the chair like he'd been shot from a cannon. "Who are you?"

"Name's Faith." Faith kept it simple. She wasn't here to make friends. "Hear you got some books for sale? The…" Damn. What were they called? Faith hadn't paid much attention to the Mayor's explanation. "The Asset? Uh. The Ascending?"

Examining her closely, Skyler slowly relaxed. "The Books of Ascension. Why didn't the other girl come? The one I talked to tonight in Restfield?"

The other girl. Only one other girl hung out in cemeteries after dark. "Buffy?"

"That's the one." Skyler moved toward the bed and a pile of books there. "But I guess there would be more than one of you Slayers in town. Do you have the money?"

Funny kind of demon to be expecting her to pay for the books. "How much again? B…Buffy was kinda vague about that part." While Skyler fussed with the books on the bed, she moved closer to him and reached for the handle of the dagger the Mayor had given her.

"Five thousand." Skyler tucked five books into a satchel and turned – right into the Faith's knife. His eyes sought Faith's and his hands clutched at her jacket before he fell to the floor.

* * *

Willow's comment exploded like a bomb dropped into the conversation.

Everyone wanted clarification. Tara listened to their voices jumble together, demanding an explanation. How could that happen? Who had done it? _Why _had they done it? The questions went on and on, getting louder with each repetition.

"Enough!" Finally, Giles called them all to order. "We are accomplishing nothing. Please! Everyone sit down and allow Willow to continue."

There was some grumbling, especially from Xander and Buffy, but they sat back down on the couch.

"The emails were created the morning after Faith killed Deputy Mayor Finch. The user had to log into Finch's computer before being able to access his email. The user name was rwilkins3." Willow's hand snapped up as she anticipated another slew of questions.

Tara didn't care about any of it anymore. The Mayor had written those emails. That meant Allan Finch hadn't been working with the vampires Buffy and Faith had fought. He'd lied to Mr. Giles and to Faith. And now Faith worked for him. Tara didn't need to know the rest of the details. She knew enough. She knew she had to tell Faith and get her away from the Mayor.

Willow and the research crew could figure the rest of the mystery out.

"Tara?" Joyce put a hand on her shoulder. "Honey, let's step out in the hall for a minute. Come on." The words were very soft. The tone was not. Joyce wasn't taking no for an answer.

That didn't meant Tara wasn't going to try to resist the command. Shaking her head, she turned her attention toward Willow – even as her mind continued to race.

"Tara and I are going to grab refills. It looks like it might be a very late night, and I could use some coffee. Tea for you, Rupert? Janna?" Joyce was _evil_. And she'd clearly won this round. Tara stood as Joyce took drink and food orders. "We'll be back in a bit. Don't save the world without us." With one hand at the small of Tara's back, she ensured Tara preceded her into the hallway and closed the Library door behind them.

"Why d-did you want me to c-come with you?" Tara demanded.

Joyce started down the stairs, still steering Tara along. "Honey, you ran out of the house so fast this morning, I didn't have a chance to talk to you. And if anybody had been watching you instead of shouting at poor Willow, they would have seen what I did. Every time someone mentions Faith or the Mayor, you are ready to charge to the rescue. It's been a really long time since Hank and I bonded. I haven't forgotten those feelings, though. The crippling need to protect – using whatever means necessary – my submissive. Last night, you hit Dominant mode in my kitchen. And I'm betting you were close to the same in the Library. Who are you protecting, honey?"

Her eyes… Goddess, they were so kind, so caring. Joyce wasn't demanding an answer. She didn't have to. Tara was certain Joyce had figured everything out the previous night when Tara had tipped her hand. "Faith," she choked out. Then, like magic, some of the pressure in her chest eased. Simply saying the name out loud, finally being able to _tell _someone other than Maxie and Trish was a relief.

"Congratulations, Tara." Joyce appeared serious; Tara checked. She rarely read auras. It was too invasive if the other person didn't know she could do it. But this was a special occasion. "Let's go get those drinks and the food or Buffy will follow us. That girl is ruled by her stomach." She started down the stairs. "You aren't having an easy time of it, are you?"

The rapid changes in topic had Tara off-balance. However, Joyce's question was easy to answer. "No." Tara's mother would have been appalled at her curt response.

"According to Buffy, you're fairly new to town. This is your first official day with the Council. And you've bonded," again, Joyce peered intently at Tara, "with Sunnydale's troubled Slayer."

Protectiveness swelled until Tara shook with a need to tell Joyce to shut up.

"She's a wonderful person, Tara. I really like, Faith. But I think she's horribly unhappy," Joyce continued as they walked through the living room toward the kitchen. "I think that's what's driving her to do all those crazy things."

Still riding a wave of Dominance, Tara bit back a protest. The things Faith did weren't crazy. Tara didn't say anything because she wasn't sure how else to describe Faith's actions. There had to be a reason, a _good _reason, though. Tara had witnessed the aftermath of Faith's recent actions, had felt Faith's pain and rage and fear. Here was Tara's chance to find answers, from someone who appeared to care about Faith as a person. Who saw more than a rebellious and disobedient Slayer. "Our bond isn't complete," Tara admitted. "Faith doesn't even know it exists. And I don't know enough to understand what's affecting the bond. You do. You know it all. Will you tell me?"

There. She'd done it. Tara wanted to stick her mental tongue out at Althenea. She'd let yet another person into her life and problems.

"I'll tell you what I can, honey. Rupert and Buffy would have all the details. There are some pieces of the puzzle you'll have to get from them." Joyce opened the refrigerator and pulled out several soda bottles. "Even though I help with the research, I'm very much a junior member of the team."

"I don't care," Tara said softly. She wasn't anywhere near ready to admit her bond to Buffy or Giles.

Pouring the drinks into clean glasses, Joyce got started. "Faith's only been in Sunnydale since October. But she's been in trouble almost from Day One. Nothing too terrible. I mean, she's a teenager. Trouble is part of the age range."

"Then why does everyone," and by everyone, Tara meant the Council, "think Faith is so bad?"

Joyce seemed to understand Tara's point perfectly. "Because the Council is made up of crusty old men who think Slayers are pawns in their chess game with the demon world. And pawns aren't supposed to ask questions, have any personal issues, or do anything that isn't in their stupid Slayer Handbook."

"And Faith does all those things," Tara said with absolute certainty.

"Exactly. As far as I know, the worst thing she's ever done was sneak out at night and visit one of the local bars. And who _hasn't _done that?" Joyce laughed. "I used my sister's ID so often even _I _started to believe I was old enough to party the night away. But the Council doesn't see it that way. Nor are they willing to overlook the truancy."

It really didn't seem like much of a problem. As Joyce said, nothing a normal teenager wouldn't do. "What about before she got to Sunnydale?" There had to be something, and Tara wasn't going to stop until she found it.

"I don't know. I don't think even Buffy knows that part of it." Joyce hesitated for a second, as if questioning whether to continue.

"Mrs. Summers?" Tara prodded. She needed to know everything. Joyce had come too far to stop now.

All of the drinks and snacks were ready. Joyce fussed with them for a long minute. "Faith must have been in trouble with the Council before she came to Sunnydale. Buffy's never given me any details, but I know she and Rupert have often run interference with the Council when Faith has done something wrong."

"They _beat _her," Tara snapped. "Beat her so badly she couldn't walk. I was there. I saw her afterward." These people were out of their minds. How was that kind of punishment running "interference"?

"Stop being Faith's bondmate and start thinking like a Dominant!" Mother Joyce morphed into Lady Joyce so quickly Tara took an unplanned step backward in shock. "Faith broke the rules. She isn't bonded; at least, the Council doesn't know she is. There isn't anyone to step in and make the bastards think past their rule book. Giles and Buffy covered up what they could."

The implication was clear. They couldn't cover everything. If Faith pushed too hard, broke one rule too many, the Council would find out. That's what Tara had witnessed the day she'd met with Althenea. Not even a group of stuffed shirt Council members sentenced someone to the kind of brutal judicial punishment that Tara suspected Faith had endured without there being multiple other violations in the past.

Now Tara understood Joyce puzzle reference. Joyce only knew what she'd seen from Faith or the little things Buffy let slip. If Tara wanted the full story, wanted all of Faith's troubled past, she had to go to the only people who knew all the details.

Tara would have to go to Giles and Buffy.


	28. Chapter 28

Hitching the satchel strap farther up on her shoulder, Faith waved to Richard's secretary before entering his office. It felt more natural today. Faith wasn't afraid she'd interrupt something important. Not now. Not with the Books of Ascension bouncing against her left hip. "Mornin', Boss."

Richard glanced up from the paperwork on his desk. "Aren't you in a chipper mood today? Did you have too much caffeine with your breakfast? That stuff is bad for you."

Faith endured his lecture, warmth suffusing her face at his caring. "No caffeine, I promise." She didn't mention she hadn't had breakfast. She didn't _really_ want him to lecture her about that, too. "Just wanted to report in on the Books. I found your demon."

"Excellent!" Leaning back in his chair, Richard placed his hands behind his head and propped his feet on his desk. "How much is it going to cost me? I can't imagine this demon just gave them to you as a belated Christmas gift."

"Well…" Faith drew out the word – then couldn't hold out any longer. She wanted to see his face when he saw the Books. The satchel landed on his desk with a thump. "Merry Christmas, Sir." No matter how hard she tried, Faith couldn't keep a grin of anticipation off her face.

Eyes narrowing, Richard sat up and opened the bag. "My Books!" Was it Faith's imagination, or did his hands tremble slightly as he pulled the first book reverently out of the bag? "You wonderful girl. Do you have any idea what this means to me?"

"It wasn't much," Faith said softly. She felt suddenly light. As if some weight had dropped from her shoulders. Everything in the room appeared brighter. Sharper.

"Not much?" Richard set the book down carefully and then came around the desk. "Don't you ever say that again, Faith. Do you hear me?" He gripped her chin tightly, forcing her to look up at him. "You did something no one else could do. I sent you out to find information, Faith. Just information. And what did you do? You found the demon and convinced him to give me the Books."

That wasn't right. The lightness drained away, replaced with liquid lead. Guilt dragged at Faith. "I killed him."

The fingers gentled. "My dear Faith." Richard smiled, Faith's favorite goofy smile. "How many demons have you killed as a Slayer? Fifty? One hundred? More? This Skyler, he was worse than those other demons. He was working with Allan."

The name was unexpected, and Faith flinched.

"He was working with Allan," Richard repeated. "They were trying to kill me, remember? Why would you think I'd be upset that you had to get rid of him?"

"I don't know." Now that he mentioned it, Faith wondered the same thing. She was a Slayer. Leaving the Council didn't mean she couldn't kill vampires and demons any more. She sure as Hell didn't feel bad about staking the vampires she'd interrogated. "I..." Faith swallowed as the answer hit her. She didn't want to disappoint him. And what she did, how she felt about it - what if the Mayor didn't really understand. "I killed him. The demon. I didn't have to. I coulda just taken the books and left him there." She'd killed him because she wanted to. Without even thinking about other options.

Tilting his head, Richard watched Faith. Watched her so closely she squirmed against his grip. It was as if he could see right into her mind. "What would have happened if you left Skyler alive? Would he have been happy you took my Books without paying him? Or that you had the books at all?"

"No," Faith answered immediately. Of course, he wouldn't have been happy about that.

"Exactly. Skyler was a threat, Faith. To me and to this city. You protected us both. You did nothing wrong. You did a good job, Faith," Richard assured her. "Sometimes, you have to put your morals aside to get the job done. Remember that, Faith."

His reassurance helped. Faith took a deep breath. "Yes, Sir." She wouldn't worry about killing Skyler anymore. She'd just been doing her job, doing what Richard had asked her to do. "Thanks." Faith missed the warmth of his hand when Richard stepped back and returned to his seat on the other side of the desk. "What now? You gonna give the books to Giles and the Council so they can figure out why Finch," Faith struggled with the name, "wanted 'em?"

Richard's expression chilled. "Why would I give my Books to the Council?"

Now she'd really upset him. Faith didn't understand why her question had been out of line. Hunching her shoulders, she kept her eyes on his desktop. "Sorry. Guess I thought... I mean, ain't they the experts on all things demon?"

There was a minute of stilted silence. "Well, I suppose you could say that." Richard thawed a little. "I question that, though. Look how they misjudged you!" With a wave of his hand, he indicated Faith should have a seat. "Before I call that oh-so-proper Mr. Giles, I want to have a look for myself."

Faith dropped into the chair as if her legs had been kicked out from under her. Damn it! Why did she always do that? Why did she always say or do the wrong thing? "Whatever you say, Boss." Her stomach felt funny, a rubber band twisted and stretched until it was close to breaking.

"You look tired. You didn't get hurt, did you?" Richard asked.

"No." Faith's voice squeaked, and she realized she was embarrassingly close to tears. She wanted to leave. Run. Now, before Richard noticed. But she couldn't do that to him. "Not a scratch," she added after clearing her throat. If she held still enough and didn't blink, maybe she'd wouldn't cry.

Either Richard didn't believe her or he was simply ready for her to leave. "Take the rest of the day off, Faith. Go enjoy the sunshine and get some sleep. You really do look tired. We'll meet back here tonight. I want to go over some plans for training my night-time security staff and set up patrol schedules."

Training and schedules. Just like at the House. Only Richard apparently thought Faith was as smart as Giles. "Sure, Boss." What would he do when he realized she couldn't do what he wanted? Faith trudged from the office, despair stamping out any lingering sense of achievement.

* * *

The tiny doughnut shop Willow and Xander had praised was out of the way. And small. So small Tara took her coffee and bag of sugary goodness to the outdoor sitting area. Her only class on Tuesdays met in the afternoon. She wanted to sit in the sun and think until then.

And read. Munching on a jelly doughnut (which made her remember Xander's comment about Giles), Tara pulled the first volume of _Domination: A Road to Self-Discovery _from her backpack_. _Unless she wanted to resemble a car broken down on the side of the Domination highway, Tara needed to continue her studies.

_The journey to true Domination begins and ends with honesty. While many espouse the belief that a Master or Mistress answers to the need of their submissive above all, honesty must come first. Honesty within the self then honesty within the dynamic. _

_Each Dominant comes into a bonding with a set of life experiences which shape, or filter, every action and decision in the future. _

Tara snorted. Really? Whoever had given these books to her had wasted their money. She could have written that all on her own. Of course, her past affected her. She'd hidden her magic and run from her Dominance since leaving home. All because of her past.

_It seems a simple solution. Open both heart and mind, embrace the past. Be free. Yet who among us runs joyfully to throw open the doors to our deepest, darkest fears? The nightmare memories and the cruel, petty actions we have excused or deliberately misremembered to salve our conscience? As some meditate to find inner peace or enlightenment, so must the Dominant strive to empty themselves of the chains of the past. _

"Easier said than done," Tara complained, taking a savage bite of her doughnut. Jelly squished out and she hastily shoved the book to safety. "OK. So step one. Admit I'm a coward and that my father was a mean, abusive bastard." Despite her flippant comments, Tara knew it would not be that simple. There were things, even now… Shivering, Tara closed the book with a sharp snap and wrapped both hands around her Styrofoam coffee cup.

She had to do this. "Stop being afraid," Tara told herself.

Treating the book like a venomous snake, Tara carefully reopened it. The truth always hurt, right? She had to confront her past; the author was correct. Fine. Tara vowed she'd do it.

* * *

Rubbing at the goose bumps on her arms, Faith scanned the nearby streets. Buffy must be out there somewhere. The electric tingle in her veins was a clear early warning signal. Faith just couldn't see her. Watcher Wes probably had Buffy tailing her to make sure she didn't go on a killing spree. Uptight asshole. Ignoring the continuing buzz, she headed into the doughnut shop. Skipping breakfast to visit the Mayor had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, though, Faith was ready to eat a horse.

The girl behind the counter recognized her and immediately reached for a stack of empty cardboard boxes. "Your usual? It must be a busy day at the House. Janna was in a couple of hours ago."

Faith's pulse quickened. Janna rarely did the food runs. Either Buffy had Xander all chained up or they were into some heavy research. "Nah. I got the munchies," she said. "If it's got chocolate, I'll take one. And a six-pack of milk." It felt weird to toss actual cash onto the counter and not bill breakfast to the House account.

She waited impatiently while the girl piled two dozen doughnuts into boxes and added plastic bottles of milk to a carrier. Faith carried her bounty outside – and stopped. Fan-fucking-tastic. Tara was here. She couldn't get away from the Council no matter what she did. On the verge of storming back to her apartment, Faith noticed Tara's fierce scowl. Whatever she was reading must not be good news. Faith grinned. The pages hadn't burst into flames yet, but she didn't give it long.

What to do? Sneak past the obviously preoccupied witch or go home?

The decision was taken out of her hands. Tara's head snapped up and her eyes locked unerringly on Faith. The scowl turned into the most amazing smile. Faith's knees started to fold until she caught herself and straightened up. What the hell was that all about? "Hey," she mumbled.

"Hey, back." Tara was still smiling. In fact, she looked like Faith had given her a lifetime of Christmas presents all at once. She must really have wanted a distraction from her book. "Sit down." The order crackled in the air, and Faith stiffened. Tara, of course, noticed. Her eyes widened before disappearing behind a waterfall of blonde hair. "S-sorry. I was…I didn't mean…"

"Whatever, Lady Tara." Faith strode across the outdoor patio and dropped into the chair across from Tara. "You ain't shy. The way you been actin' lately, I'm thinkin' you might take on B as Sunnydale's Head Bitch." Probably not. Faith couldn't imagine anyone out-Dominating Buffy. Still, Tara looked like she could use some encouragement. That blush had to be painful.

Apparently, Tara agreed with Faith's exaggeration. "I d-did get Buffy to take Xander on patrol with her last night. What do you think? Mayb-be I'm already better than she is."

Faith laughed. She couldn't help it. "You're a bruiser, T. No doubt about it. Should I give up my chair and hit the pavement?"

"You mean, should you kneel?" The stutter was gone. Tara's voice had firmed, and the words brushed over Faith's skin like a caress. "You'd need a pillow first, sweetie. The concrete wouldn't be good for your knees. I'd hate it if you got hurt on patrol because you were stiff and sore."

Holy crap. Who was this Dominant, and what had she done with Tara? Faith shifted in her chair, aware of a new tingle between her legs. One that had absolutely nothing to do with Buffy. "That would suck, yeah." Her voice was stuck between a husky rumble and an embarrassing squeak – and Tara's eyes darkened at the sound. The morning air heated until Faith thought there might be sparks blowing on the breeze.

Tara felt it, too. Faith watched her lick her lips and swallow hard.

"Eat your breakfast, Faith." It wasn't what Faith expected to hear. Frowning in confusion, Faith stared at Tara until she tapped a finger against the top of Faith's doughnut boxes. "You didn't come here looking for a play date. You were hungry. You should eat."

"Are you kidding?" The words exploded out; Faith didn't even attempt to censor them. She and Tara had been in synch. Faith had been ready to mention her apartment; to invite her back for way more than doughnuts.

Tara took her anger in stride. She appeared to…absorb the words. Meeting Faith's gaze, she repeated softly, "Eat, Faith."

No way. Faith placed her hands on the table, intending to leave. To Hell with Tara. She'd go somewhere, one of the local bars, and find someone to help scratch the itch Tara had started. And then those eyes, Tara's eyes, stopped her. Tara didn't say anything. But her eyes hardened.

Tara clearly wanted Faith to stay seated and to eat.

"I am kinda hungry," Faith said, needing to explain why she gave in so easily.

Head tilting to one side, Tara responded, "Two dozen doughnuts? That's 'kinda hungry'? You must have thought I was trying to starve you at lunch that day. Half a sandwich isn't even an appetizer for you, is it?"

Rather than answer, Faith took a huge bite of a chocolate glazed doughnut.

"Next time, I'll do better." Tara said back and gave Faith the Evil Eye. "And if I get it wrong again, I expect you to tell me."

Tara had changed a lot since the Winter Social. The shy little mouse had learned to roar.

"Did Giles drop a book on your head last night?" Of course, Faith had a mouth full of doughnut when she spoke.

That might have explained the lag time between the question and the answer. "I don't think so. But if it was _The Compendium of Ancient Vampyres and Demon Clans _I might have a concussion and not be able to remember it. It must weigh thirty pounds."

"And Giles keeps it on the top shelf." Working her way through the rest of the doughnuts and milk, Faith read the spine of Tara's book. "You get your 'grr' on 'cause you been readin' that?"

Tara grabbed the book and stuffed it in her backpack.

Ooh, she'd scored a direct hit. Something in that book had affected Tara, and Tara was trying to hide it. Wanting more information – but not wanting to act like it - Faith casually leaned back, legs stretched out. "You wanna tell me why you got to read about bein' a Dominant?"

"You want to tell me how the new job with the Mayor's going?" Tara fired back. She must not have bought Faith's uncaring routine. She clearly wasn't willing to tell Faith about whatever she'd been reading.

And Faith had no intention of discussing the Mayor with anyone from the Council. Not even Tara.

Luckily, Tara didn't push. In fact, she slumped back in her chair. "If I keep losing Dominant points with you, I'll have to move my marker to the right." Tara ran a hand through her hair. "And that could be a problem. I have it on very good authority that my marker in on the correct side." From the way she plucked at the leather cuff, though, Faith thought Tara could have some doubts. Really? She'd been doing fine up to now. And she was a whole lot better than Buffy, who ran roughshod over everyone.

"Red give you that book?" Only Willow would think reading would teach something as action-intensive as a dynamic.

Tara thought about the question. "I don't think so. A friend threw a party when I…when I bonded." For someone chatting about finding her soulmate, Tara didn't seem exactly overjoyed. "No one there admitted to getting it for me. And Willow didn't know anything about the bond then." Gathering up all the trash on the table, Tara continued. "You'll be happy to know that my merry band of Dominant mentors agrees with you. Reading is fun and enhances the mind. It does not, thank you, Faith, teach anyone – including me – to be a Dominant."

There were some serious issues rumbling around behind Tara's pretty blue eyes. Faith very wisely said nothing. In fact, she inched her chair back a little. _Don't mess with the cranky Domme_, _idiot, _she mentally warned herself. Especially one who could do magic.

"How far in the points hole am I now?" Tara put her head on the table.

"I lost count." Reaching across the table, Faith gently patted the top of Tara's head. "Don't matter anyway. What I think ain't important. You got a sub. What do they think?"

If anything, Tara appeared even more miserable. "I don't know. The bond isn't complete."

That sucked. Faith didn't know what to say so she sat there, watching a bird hunt for crumbs under a table across the patio. What would it be like to know there was someone out there? Someone who was supposed to be a perfect match?

The hair on Faith's arms sprang to attention. Damn Buffy for lurking. Faith glared at the empty sidewalk for a second before rubbing a hand up and down her forearms. "So you're gettin' ready. That's why you got that book." Lucky sub. Tara was pretty and way nicer than any Dominant Faith had met. "You happy about it? The bond?"

A minute ago, Tara had been slumped over the table. At Faith's question, though, she sat upright. "Yes. Yes, I am. Even though the she's blocking the link, my submissive is beautiful and smart. And I can't wait to show her how much I want her."

Beautiful and smart. Faith's throat tightened and an ache developed in her chest. She wanted someone to say things like that about her – and it would never happen. Her mother, Diana, the Council. They all knew the truth. Even the Mayor would know soon.

"Have you ever…dreamed of finding your Dominant?" Tara asked, watching Faith intently.

"No," Faith answered curtly. Not since her first john had given her "lessons on obedience". Her back burned with phantom welts, and she automatically leaned away from the back of the chair in response. "Who'd want me? You're with the Council. I bet they told you all about me. I'm a legend; the worst Slayer ever."

Tara was out her chair and around the table so quickly Faith jerked in surprise. "Don't you _ever _say anything like that again! You are a good Slayer. The only people who don't agree are that idiot Wesley – and you." Her fingers gripped Faith's chin firmly for a second before gentling. They slipped away, gliding across her throat, lingering over her suddenly pounding pulse point, and then tangling in the hair at the nape of Faith's neck. "Goddess, you are so beautiful," Tara whispered. Right before her lips descended on Faith's.

This was no tender, testing kiss. Tara's shy, hippy appearance hid a wild, violent side. Her teeth nipped at Faith's lips, and her tongue dueled with Faith's.

Faith reared back, and Tara's fingers nearly ripped a handful of hair from her head as she held Faith in place. Fuck, yes. The outdoor patio dropped away. Holding still, Faith allowed Tara to control the kiss. To control _her. _There was no drive to resist. No need to run away. Faith melted into the wet heat of Tara's mouth.

She was so lost in sensation it took several seconds to realize Tara had pulled away and run from the coffee shop.


	29. Chapter 29

Tara was an idiot. There was no other way to explain what she'd done. Leaning against the sun-warmed brick wall of the doughnut shop, Tara held her hands out. They shook violently.

At least, she consoled herself, the trembling wasn't from fear. Far from it. Tara rode a wave of Dominance. Not a wave. A tsunami. Dark desires, urges to _possess _and _mark, _blotted out the bright morning. The feel of Faith's hair in her fingers. The way she'd leaned willingly into Tara's kiss. Tara wanted more of that. Right now. Right this very minute.

But Tara didn't have the right to march back onto the patio and demand Faith follow her home. Into her cuffs. Into her bed.

Tara had no rights at all. Faith wasn't her submissive in any recognizable way. The link…

That was it. The link! Tara closed her eyes and fought her spastic mind into submission. Oh, yes. Yes! The bondmate link had widened. Tara inched along the conduit, basking in Faith's arousal. It fed Tara's on a continuous loop.

_Desire/confusion/surrender _

She pushed farther. "_Faith?"_

Nothing. Not a single stray thought answered Tara's mental call. As she strained, desperate to hear Faith's thoughts, Tara shivered as the wash of Faith's arousal turned cold and hardened into a limitless mountain of self-loathing. Then the link closed off again, leaving Tara alone in her mind.

What had Tara done? What had her stupid loss of control done to Faith?

Tara ran back to the patio. She had to make this right. She had to…

She had to do nothing. Faith was gone. The patio was empty. Hugging her backpack to her chest, Tara stared at the tiny table in the back where she'd shared breakfast with Faith.

_Faith's husky laugh shivered over Tara's nerves. Goddess, she loved that sound. Loved the way Faith's eyes darkened and her dimples flashed. "You're a bruiser, T. No doubt about it. Should I give up my chair and hit the pavement?"_

"Yes," Tara whispered to that image of Faith. Then a choked, "Please come back," followed. She'd take Faith however she could. Standing, sitting, angry and defiant. Tara didn't care as long as Faith came back.

"You tryin' to find them lost Domme Points?" Faith asked from behind her. "They weren't on the table. I checked before tossing the trash." Although the words were teasing, the tone was not. And Faith's stony expression backed up the whole lack of funny.

Tara had hurt her. Deeply. It didn't take a soulbond to know that. Gripping her resolve, Tara said quietly, "I'm sorry, Faith. I shouldn't have run away."

"Yeah?" Indifference coated the question. Faith couldn't have cared less, and Tara would have believed her if she hadn't been watching so closely. She would have missed the minute upward curl of Faith's lips and the way her eyes brightened. After all, Faith's scowl was truly fierce.

"Yes." Dropping her backpack onto the sidewalk, Tara slowly stepped forward. The tiny connection she'd shared with Faith during breakfast was gone. Tara had tarnished that by fleeing. She would have to go slowly. Rebuild it. And, most importantly, allow Faith to tell her if she wanted more. "But I'm here now, and I promise I won't run again."

The muscles of Faith's face tightened. "Whatever."

"Dominants are only human, Faith. Wearing a leather marker on my left wrist doesn't make me all-knowing or infallible. It makes me someone who prefers to cherish and guide my partner. That's all. I made a mistake." One finger rose and brushed across Faith's lips. "You _are _beautiful, my Slayer." The possessive was out of bounds because Tara had not yet collared Faith. Tara didn't care. "Beautiful and powerful. What kind of arrogance does it take for one inexperienced Dominant to imagine, even for a single minute, that she could control you?"

"You think too much, T. You weren't imagin' anything over doughnuts and coffee." Every time Faith spoke, her lips caressed Tara's fingers. "You were just fucking _doin' _it."

Dominance wasn't instinctive, Tara wanted to protest. She didn't because Faith was right. Althenea had said it first. She needed to trust her heart. "And is that what you want? To be 'fucking doing it?'"

The arrogance Tara thought she'd needed peered back at her through Faith's eyes. "You tell me, T."

The challenge had been clearly issued. The cuffs were there…if Tara had the guts to use them. Unfortunately, there was a problem with picking up Faith's verbal gauntlet. Nowhere in any of the "how to be a Dominant" books had anyone discussed the importance of planning. It was a definite informational gap. "You realize we have a logistical issue?" Namely, they were across town from Trish's home.

"Not my problem." Faith shrugged and stuffed her hands in her pockets. The picture of casual. "Ma'am."

"Brat," Tara stated. "Just for that, I should order you to carry me. Put those muscles," those very sexy muscles, "to good use." It might leave Faith too tired to play, though. A tragedy. Stepping around Faith, Tara scanned the street. Sunnydale had one cab company and three cabs. The chance of finding one was slim.

Unless the Goddess watched out for you. Tara walked into the street to ensure the car zooming down the street stopped. One hand at Faith's back guided her into the back seat. Tara climbed in after.

"Where to?" The cab driver glanced first at Tara and then at Faith.

About to give the address to Trish's house, Tara hesitated. Maxie didn't have class on Tuesday and would be home. Where else could they go? A club? The thought of walking through Top of the World and renting one of the private rooms made Tara cringe.

"920 Aegeon." Faith smirked at Tara as if to say, "You're losing those points again."

Narrowing her eyes, Tara decided to earn a few points back. Her backpack yielded a silk scarf she normally used to tie her hair into a ponytail. It slipped easily around Faith's neck in a simple lanyard hitch. "Have you forgotten who's in charge?" Tara gently twisted her hand in the scarf end, tightening the loop around Faith's neck.

Oh, yes. The melted-chocolate highlights were back in Faith's eyes. Setting her left hand on Faith's thigh, Tara tugged until Faith leaned closer. Their previous kiss had been unplanned. Not an accident; yet not a deliberate act. This was. Tara used her makeshift leash to hold Faith in place. An unspoken reminder that Faith had given herself to Tara – at least for now.

Unspoken might not work, however. Faith tested Tara's resolve. She pressed into Tara and nipped at her tongue.

Tara punished the behavior by pulling away. If Faith wanted the kissing to continue, it would do so on Tara's terms or not at all. Faith, Tara decided, had better make the right decision. _Tara _really wanted the kissing to continue. "Red or green?" she murmured. Stop or go.

Indecision flickered across Faith's expression.

Red, then. Tara unhooked the scarf and returned it to her bag. To stay connected with Faith, though, she ran her palm up and down Faith's thigh. Her nails scraped over the well-worn denim of Faith's pants. Tara enjoyed the audible hitch in Faith's breathing at the caresses. When the cab stopped outside an apartment building, Tara hopped out and paid the driver.

Faith was slower to get out. Everything about her body language had suddenly closed off. Hands in pockets. Shoulders tight and hunched. Scowl in place.

"Is this where you live, sweetie? It's really nice." Tara put some distance between them. It was the right move. Faith's shoulders relaxed noticeably. Maneuvering invisible land mines, Tara held out her hand. _Your move, my Slayer_. "Will you show me around?"

When she'd done something similar at the Slayer House, the stakes hadn't been as high. Tara hadn't known then that Faith was her bondmate. She'd only known that she wanted Faith to relax and be happy. Although those same goals were hovering near them now, Tara's hand represented the first step in building a relationship with Faith. Keeping her hand extended – and her nearly crippling self doubts hidden – leeched the color from the day.

Please. Oh, Goddess, please.

The color rushed back and birds sang arias. Faith's callused fingers fired every nerve in Tara's body when Faith accepted Tara's outstretched hand. Her grip was loose. A mere link between two of her fingers and Tara's.

It didn't matter. Tara restrained a girlish squeal of delight and a desire to skip as she followed Faith into the building.

Self-control had been the right choice. Faith hadn't closed off again, but she was very unsure. Tara vowed to enroll in a dozen psychology courses for the Summer Session. Without a full bond, all she had to go on were Faith's actions, words, and body language. Faith's wants and needs apparently weren't on the same page, from the continued frown and the accompanying hesitant glances in Tara's direction.

As Faith's tension appeared to mount with the rising floor numbers, Tara's inexplicably dropped. Calm blanketed her mind. When the elevator stopped and Faith stalked to her apartment door, Tara said quietly, "Once the door closes behind us, my Slayer, I want you on your knees."

Faith's smooth gait faltered, and her head whipped around.

"Your safeword is red, Faith. Unless you use it, you are mine." The next words were bitter against Tara's tongue. "For today. Do you understand?"

A heartbeat, then two marked the wait time as Faith considered that. "Yes. Ma'am." The key slipped into the lock and the door opened. They walked inside, Tara's hand once again resting on Faith's back, a reminder that Faith moved where Tara directed.

The door closed, and _Tara _locked it. Not Faith. Faith stood in the wood-floored entryway, her back stiff. Tara hadn't won the challenge. She had merely forced another round. If Tara wanted Faith on her knees, she would have to put Faith there.

Anticipation bubbled through Tara's veins. The airy apartment faded into the background as Tara's focus narrowed. "You asked me at breakfast if you should take to your knees, Faith. What was my answer?" Her combat boots made weird creaking noises as she walked farther into the room. Perfect. She didn't even have to hunt for a pillow. Picking one off the couch, Tara tossed it in front of Faith and waited.

"I don't need a pillow," Faith protested. "Slayer, remember? Done way worse than kneel on a wood floor."

Faith was so cute when she tried to be tough. Of course, Tara could never let her know that. "That isn't the point, is it, sweetie?" With a tilt of her head, she gestured at the pillow. "Where should you be?"

Tara grew the tiniest bit lightheaded when Faith dropped to her knees. On the pillow. "Thank you, Faith." She strode over, unable to resist touching her sub. Soft skin. Silky hair. Tara rewarded them both with a bruising kiss of possession that left her panting and her hands tangled in Faith's hair. "What are your limits, Faith?" Tara would never be able to hide her reaction to touching Faith. Her voice had dropped an entire octave. Releasing her hold on Faith, Tara walked through the apartment while she waited for an answer.

"I don't have limits." Why was Faith's response not a surprise?

Without glancing in Faith's direction, Tara announced, "Everyone has limits. Even superheroes and Slayers." She'd have to come at this topic from another angle. "What turns you on? What can I do for you that would make our session," their entire lives, "as good as Slaying?" Hmmm. This could be useful. Tara paused in the workout area of the apartment. A deep, built-in cabinet held an unused jump rope. Tara picked it up and resumed her tour.

Faith's answers, however, did not resume.

"Let me tell you _my_ limits, Faith. I won't use any impact tool heavier than a paddle." Using the crop on Maxie… Tara shivered. Never for play. Never again for punishment, if she could avoid it. "No whips, floggers, crops, or canes. Nothing that might leave permanent marks."

"_You think you'll ever be free of me, bitch? You wear my marks. I put those there with this." The whip cracked and a second later Tara's mother screamed. "No one else would ever want you now."_

The shiny new kitchen wavered as Tara heard her father's phantom voice. She gripped the Formica counter with desperate strength. Not here. Not now. Swallowing against the bile burning her throat, Tara deliberately turned and looked at Faith.

There was a sight to chase away her demons. Her Slayer, resting on her knees. With some of the worst posture Tara had ever seen. Had no one made an attempt to teach Faith how to submit? "I don't know much about rope bondage, but I'm learning. I think you'd look unbelievable tied and displayed." She'd have to drag that damned Bondage Betty blow-up doll out of her closet and practice. "Now it's your turn." More centered, Tara went back to the kitchen.

Did Faith eat here? The utensils appeared brand new. Which was good. Who wanted to use a wooden spoon as a toy if it had just stirred the soup cooking on the stove? Sanitary was safest. Tara added that spoon, a wickedly springy rubber spatula, and a sharp knife to her collection. Chip clips? She hesitated with the pantry door open.

Not today. She needed more sub study time before trying nipple clamps. Tara could really have used a shopping cart as she filled an ice bucket with ice cubes.

"Faith? I don't hear any limits," she warned. There were enough toys for now. Her sub needed some motivation to share at the moment. Leaving her goodies on the kitchen counter, she headed back to Faith. "Honesty and trust are the foundation of a dynamic," she lectured. "Without it, there is no balance between Domination and submission." All those hours reading books were good for something, at least. "Worse, there is no safety. I never want to harm you, sweetie. And I only want to hurt you in a way you'll enjoy. Was I not clear in what I expected from you?" She added a bite to the final question and smiled when Faith's head dropped in response.

"No," Faith muttered at the floor.

"No, _Tara,_" Tara instructed. She wouldn't push for "ma'am" yet. Besides, she liked the way Faith said her name. "T" was for Faith's friend. "Tara," in that husky rumble was for Faith's Dominant. With gentle hands, she rearranged Faith on the pillow. Knees no longer spread all the way open, just wide enough to fit on the pillow for comfort. Hands resting palms-up on her thighs. Back straight. Chest out. "Very pretty, Faith."

Pretty was a lame description. Tara was just short of pounding her chest and screaming a primitive challenge to any other Dominant in the area. Faith knelt _for Tara_. She would submit to Tara alone.

"Was I not clear in what I expected from you?" Tara would stick with that point until she got the proper response.

"No, Tara." Faith's voice was softer, some of the tension missing. Her breathing had slowed as well.

Tara waited and watched for a moment until she thought Faith was truly ready. "What are your limits, Faith?" All she really wanted was for Faith to try. To give her something.

"I don't like bein' tied down." It was said so softly Tara unconsciously leaned closer. "And don't…don't…" Faith fought for the words until she nearly came off the pillow. Tara encouraged her with soft kisses behind Faith's ear and the curve of her jaw. "Don't hit me. With your fist. Paddlin's OK."

Some had _hit _Faith? Tara dropped to her knees in front of Faith and held Faith's head still with palms on each cheek. "Never, my Slayer. I swear I will _never _do that to you." And if she ever found the bastard who had, it would be the perfect opportunity to test a levin bolt spell Tara had run across. Needing to reward Faith's reluctant sharing, Tara took the opportunity to kiss Faith again. It was addictive. One led to two. And three.

Finally able to pull away, Tara rose to her feet and brought Faith with her. It would have been easier if Faith wore her collar. Tara had to be content with a tight grip on the back of Faith's neck. Her earlier tour had provided toys. Tara needed something else. Hardware. Surely an apartment this high-end would have that.

It did. However, the eyebolts and hooks were tastefully disguised. "Remove your jacket. Then take down that plant in front of the window, sweetie. It's not really you." It already looked wilted from lack of care. "Then kneel with your back to the window, arms raised, and wrists crossed over your head. You won't need the pillow." Faith wouldn't be on her knees for long this time.

Only long enough for Tara to grab her toys from the kitchen and return to the living room. The sight of Faith, exactly as she'd requested, took her breath away. Faith's raised arms highlighted her amazing muscle tone and implied that Faith was offering herself to Tara. Although the offer was short-term, Tara took it.

She pulled an end table next to Faith and sat everything except the rope down. Tara formed two identical loops with the jump rope before threading them through each other and pulling the outer segments. Sloppy "handcuffs" now sat on either side of the central knot, with additional rope and the handles dangling below. The loops fit easily over Faith's hands. Tara watched Faith carefully as she pulled on the loose ends to tighten the rope around Faith's wrists.

Faith had said she didn't like to be tied down. She had _not _indicated that all forms of bondage were a limit. Tara didn't hear a safeword. And Faith remained relaxed, with only a hint of tension, as Tara finished her work by tying the loose ends together just beneath the main handcuff knot. It wasn't the best way to restrain someone, but Tara wasn't going for full immobility. She only wanted to increase Faith's sense of vulnerability.

With gentle pressure, Tara indicated Faith should stand. The rope knot hooked onto the heavy-grade hook that had been holding the plant. A quick search revealed a second hook panel on the nearby wall. Tara retracted enough of the delicate yet sturdy chain until Faith's arms were raised. She did not attempt to pull Faith onto her toes. Nylon wasn't designed for that and might damage Faith's skin. And the knot was more for show than function.

It still presented a pretty picture. And it was enough like "real" bondage to have created a red flush from just above Faith's breasts to her hairline.

Tara felt a bit flushed herself. "Red or green, my Slayer?"

"Green, Tara." Mmm, submissive Faith was in the room. Tara shuddered at the soft, slightly fuzzy answer.

"Do you know what it's like to know someone as powerful as you granted me control?" Tara slowly circled Faith, hand trailing over every inch of her back and stomach. Faith's muscles twitched delightfully at the touch. Touch, twitch, step, touch, twitch. A little more of the world faded as Tara completed a second circuit. "It's like drinking a dozen double-shot espressos at one sitting." The air around Tara felt electric with energy.

Still…Those damned Dominance books seriously needed to add a few chapters on planning. Tara's sub was all strung up and ready to play – fully clothed. Tara would have to be creative. The paring knife worked wonders on Faith's t-shirt and bra (although it might need sharpening before cutting any more fruit). Faith's boots came off with more effort, and Tara eased Faith's jeans and underwear off as well.

Tara shoved the clothing aside and took her first taste of Faith's skin. A hint of sweat and the tang of perfume teased her taste buds. Up close, she felt each tiny twitch as Faith reacted as she traced a path from neck to nipples. The hum of inner white noise filled Tara's mind. She heard nothing but Faith's increasingly labored breathing and the clink of melting ice cubes dropping lower in the bucket.

Not wanting to waste precious water, Tara snagged a cube and set it directly over Faith's right nipple.

"Ah! Shit! That's cold!" Faith stepped away from Tara – and that wasn't what Tara wanted.

Her free hand collided sharply with Faith's thigh. "Don't you move," Tara ordered. She rearranged Faith to her satisfaction and then waited for Faith to respond. It wasn't verbal; unless you counted the silent grinding of Faith's teeth and the nasty glare she turned Tara's way. Too bad Tara wasn't in the mood to care. There had been no safeword. "Good girl." It wasn't time to work on Faith's attitude; Tara was only after her obedience.

Tara's cold-numbed fingers warmed as she slid them and the remaining sliver of ice over Faith's stomach. Faith whined – and stayed in place. "Such a good Slayer." Tara licked at the water droplets on Faith's skin and sucked her taut, chilled nipple into her mouth.

The whine changed to a husky moan.

Selecting another ice cube, Tara alternated cold with her mouth. By the time the last piece melted, Faith writhed _into _Tara, rather than away. Tara straightened. Faith's pupils were dark and blown. In defiance of the ice play, sweat glistened on her skin.

"Don't stop. Almost…almost there," Faith said. Her feet didn't move. She'd learned that lesson. Her hips tilted forward in invitation, however.

Tara's lips curled in an evil smile. "Almost where, Faith? Do you have somewhere else to be?" Her hand hovered over the spoon and spatula for a moment. The spoon won. "That's too bad. I'm not ready to let you leave."

Lightly, using no real force, Tara flicked the spoon against Faith's right butt cheek. This time, Faith's hip tilt was at Tara's whim. She switched the utensil to her left hand and used the spatula with her right. Right. Left. Butt. Thigh. Up and down Faith's body.

Faith danced to the tune of faints smacks. Every few blows, Tara added a hint of power. Reactions to those gave Tara another idea. She dropped to her knees again, thankful that kitchen utensils had long handles. She paused the "punishment" long enough to wrap her lips around Faith's engorged clit. Her tongue toyed with the hood.

Pleasure and pain. Working the utensils in tandem with her lips and tongue, Tara controlled Faith's limited movements. The body pressed against her undulated, thrust into the caresses and back into the bite of spoon and spatula. The movements grew more pronounced; Faith's muscles tightened until Tara knew she was out of playtime. One extra sharp smack of the spoon landed at the same time Tara lashed her tongue right over the tip of Faith's clit.

Faith climaxed with a hoarse shout, and Tara gripped her hips to keep her from falling. Once she was sure she'd nursed Faith through the last possible aftershock, Tara quickly stood. Keeping one arm around Faith, she cut the rope away from Faith's wrists and led her across the apartment to the bed. "Climb on, sweetie," she urged, holding the comforter up.

"Yes, Tara." Faith slipped under the blanket and Tara curled along Faith's back.

Goddess. Desire pounded through Tara. She'd dimly been aware of it in the living room. Most of her attention had been for Faith, though. Now, with Faith wrapped in her arms… Tara sucked in a slow breath and contented herself with stroking Faith until she came out of subspace. The soft caresses weren't meant to rekindle the flames of passion; they were meant to comfort and reassure. "I'm here, Faith. I've got you," Tara whispered. The glide of her fingers over Faith's skin was hypnotic. Tara floated, more at peace than she could ever remember.

Until Faith stiffened and rolled away. The abrupt move shattered Tara's peace and left her cold and shivering. "Faith? What's wrong?" Had she somehow crossed one of Faith's boundaries?

"Nothing's wrong. Just ain't ready for a nap, that's all." When Faith climbed out of bed and hunted through the dressers for new clothes, Tara understood. The scene was over; Faith had no desire for aftercare.

It was time for Tara to leave. Until that moment, Tara hadn't realized how much more she'd hoped would come from their time together. She was a fool. The link hadn't grown any. Faith wasn't sharing her thoughts or emotions – except through her obvious cold shoulder. Tara's arousal shriveled and died. "I sh-should leave. My class st-starts soon." Class. Like Tara cared about her class.

But she did care about Faith. If Faith needed her to leave, to pretend there was nothing more than this one afternoon between them, Tara would go. Trudging to the door, Tara grabbed her backpack. She didn't want to leave. "Faith…"

"Don't want ya' to miss class." At least Faith finally glanced up. A ghost of a smile appeared. "Guess you got all those Domme points back with interest. You ever need to stock up…"

Tears threatened. Faith wasn't making this a one-time session. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere close to enough. "It you ever need to remember who's in charge…" Tara hoped her voice sounded teasing, and not like she was ready to cry.

She made it all the way into the elevator before the first sob escaped.


	30. Chapter 30

It was crowded in the Doublemeat Palace. Faith sat at a table for two in the back. She needed to head to City Hall and meet the Mayor. Hell, she probably should have been there hours ago. She just hadn't managed to muster the motivation to go. Taking a bite of her burger, Faith glanced around. Families with screaming kids filled most of the booths. A couple holding hands sat directly across from her.

Faith forced the bite of food past the sudden constriction in her throat. It tasted like crap. Just like the leftover pizza in Faith's 'fridge or the one-pound bag of her favorite peanut M&Ms. Maybe she was coming down with something. Rolling her shoulders, Faith grimaced at the tight, achy feeling in her muscles. Fucking perfect. Slayers kicked serious demon ass but were still vulnerable to the common cold. She dragged her jeans jacket closed and scowled at all the happy people around her. After a minute, the scowl faded. Faith was too tired to maintain the expression. She really just wanted to curl up and sleep.

_"I'm right here, my Slayer." Tara kissed the back of Faith's neck. Her arms were warm and more solid than Faith expected. In fact...they felt pretty fucking awesome. "I love holding you, did you know that? Soft, sleepy Slayer." The gentle words flowed over Faith with all the warmth of an electric blanket in a Boston winter. They sucked at her. Pulled her down into a place she'd never been before._

_Closing her eyes, Faith pressed closer to Tara. She'd rest. Just for a minute. Then when she woke up, Faith would take care of Tara. Tara had __**earned **__it. _

_Sleep. Tara's arms. Sleep in Tara's arms. _

_Faith panicked…_

Soda cascaded over Faith's hand, and she stared dazedly at the crushed paper cup. Her heart raced frantically as a puddle of brown liquid spread over the pile of fries and the burger remains on the table in front of her. It might have ended up in her lap if a Dominant from a nearby table hadn't tossed a handful of napkins on the spill. "Do you need some help?"

Good fucking Samaritans. They never knew when to leave things alone. "No," Faith mumbled. It might have been a lie, though. Her head suddenly pounded, and her hands were blocks of ice.

"You don't look all that good." The Domme was going to be a problem. She waved to her male sub and their two children, and Faith knew she had to make an escape. Faith didn't need a new mommy. One crazy bitch in a single lifetime was enough.

Abandoning her soggy dinner, Faith put her head down and shoved her way past the Dominant. The woman tried to grab her arm, but Faith was a Slayer. It took no effort to twist free and stride from the DMP. City Hall and her date with the Mayor loomed; yet Faith wandered aimlessly through downtown Sunnydale.

"_I'm right here, my Slayer." _

Why had Tara said that? Tara sure as Hell wasn't her Dominant. "My Slayer". Like Faith belonged to her. Faith didn't belong to anyone. She didn't even belong _anywhere._ Not Boston. Never Boston. Not here in Sunnydale at the Slayer House.

Tara hadn't really meant any of the things she'd said. She'd lied. She was like everyone else in Faith's life. Tara had run the second Faith hopped out of bed, saying she had to go to class. Faith's conscience reared its head. Tara hadn't left because she wanted to. She'd left because Faith had kicked her out of bed and then nearly shoved her out the door.

Images of the morning with Tara chased around Faith's memories. Dropping onto a bench, Faith leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Somehow, Tara had gotten inside Faith's head. She'd pushed Faith emotionally off balance. No, that wasn't right. Faith had _let _Tara inside her head. Tara made Faith feel…good. Strangely happy and calm.

Tara's blue eyes chipped at Faith's self-control. Her smile tangled around Faith's heart.

It was stupid. Beyond fucking stupid. Tara was bonded. She wore a black cuff. She was off limits.

Why did it even matter? Faith didn't want a bond. She didn't want a Dominant for anything more than scratching an occasional itch. No way would Faith ever willingly obey someone outside the bedroom. She wasn't weak. She didn't need a Dominant to tell her what to do.

Opening her eyes and staring up into the darkening sky, Faith admitted a terrible truth: she wanted Tara. Wanted her as more than a one-night stand. Not…not full time. Not like a real Dominant. Still, it was an impossible wish. Even if Tara was willing to be a recurring date, her submissive would show up eventually.

Faith catapulted off the bench and stalked down the sidewalk. What the fuck was wrong with her? She needed to get her head on straight again. Faith was better off on her own. Trusting people, letting them close enough, wanting them to stick around, ended one way. Badly. Usually with Faith broken and bleeding and alone. Faith had a lot of experience at that. She didn't need to go through it again. She'd learned that lesson too well. Better to keep her morning with Tara as a pleasant memory and move on.

Lead weights settled on Faith's shoulders. Every step toward City Hall seemed to stretch for a mile. Faith had to force her body forward. Her pace was so slow and deliberate that evening had become night by the time she glimpsed the lights of City Hall ahead.

The Mayor was waiting for her. _He_ was her future, not Tara. For the first time, though, Faith wasn't excited when she took the first of the stone steps leading to the front doors. Her position with the Mayor was only a job. It wasn't a way of life the way Slaying had been. Calling in sick had never seemed like such a good idea until now.

Halfway up the steps, Faith paused.

Vampires. And very nearby. Her stomach twisted into a very specific knot, and a little of her depression lifted. Slaying was the best way Faith knew to feel better. Reversing course, she ran toward the pull of her senses.

They were closer than she'd thought. So close, it was a wonder Faith hadn't seen them as she'd walked down Whiteoak. Four vampires clustered around an open service entrance in the alley next to City Hall. An entrance _into _City Hall.

With a full-throated battle cry, Faith unsheathed the knife the Mayor had given her and charged the group. It wasn't the ideal weapon for killing vampires, but it was all Faith had. She'd make it work.

Two of the vampires rushed to meet her. Faith ducked a wild haymaker from the tall, skinny one on the left. Stepping to _his _left gave her an unimpeded shot at his gut – and that's where she buried her dagger. Not a kill shot for a vampire. Still painful and enough to take him out of the fight for a few minutes. Faith shoved him off the blade, blocking out the sight of his body dropping to the ground.

This wasn't the warehouse district. The vampire wasn't Allan Finch. Fear still tightened her muscles, and Faith's next slash with the knife was off-target. She caught the second vampire across the cheek rather than the throat. Fangs flashing, he drove Faith back several yards until her back slammed into the wall of the adjacent police station.

"Not smart, asshole." Faith wasn't distracted or bored any longer. Letting him hold her shoulders to the wall, she raised her legs and drove them into his chest. He staggered away. Faith didn't let him get too far, though. She bridged the gap, knife flashing in a powerful arc.

The Mayor had excellent taste in blades. The steel cut through the vampire's neck with only the slightest hesitation at the spine. The vampire dropped to the pavement as a pile of dust. One down. Three to go. Faith's first victim was still out of the fight so she turned her attention to the two hovering by the door. Neither was armed. Perfect. They didn't stand a chance.

That didn't mean the vampires were willing to go quietly. They ran at Faith, launching a coordinated attack. Blocking a kick, Faith snaked her hand around that vampire's ankle and pulled him forward – right into her booted foot. "Hope ya' didn't want kids," she told him as he dropped like a stone.

By this time, the final standing vampire had realized the odds for survival were bad. He turned to run. Unfortunately, Faith wasn't willing to let him go. Somersaulting forward, she rolled to her feet in front of him before adding his remains to the alley floor. Her final two victims barely put up a struggle (they were both prone on the ground already) as she decapitated them. Slaying. There was nothing like it. Faith twirled her dagger and cast out with her senses.

Nothing. There were no other vampires in the area. Too bad. The fight had her adrenaline pumping. She slipped inside the open door, hoping to discover what had brought them to City Hall. It was difficult to see at first; thankfully, Slayer senses overcame most of the gloom after a minute. Faith carefully moved through what appeared to be a maintenance garage or large storage facility. Crates sat in untidy piles and fought for space with steel shelves crammed with unidentifiable machine parts. After barking her shins and nearly knocking down a pyramid of paint cans, Faith finally found a light switch.

What had the vampires wanted in here? There was absolutely nothing of value. She'd have to let the Mayor know and make sure Security kept a closer eye on things. Faith closed the exterior door.

The lock hadn't been broken. In fact, the door looked brand new. Life on the streets of Boston had given Faith many unusual skills. Lock picking had been her favorite. Faith was certain the vampires hadn't jimmied the lock. There were no scratch marks marring the metal knob.

Either someone had let them in, or they'd had a key. She deliberately left it unlocked. After making sure the Mayor was out of danger, Faith planned to come back and take another look around.

Faith exited the room into a back corridor inside City Hall. There wasn't a single security guard between the storage area and the Mayor's office. Continuing her search, Faith stalked every hall and unlocked room in the building. No guards. She broke into a run and burst into the Mayor's office. "Boss!"

Richard dropped the glass he been holding and spun around, hands raised in surrender. "Don't shoot! I swear I didn't steal anything."

As focused as she was, Faith didn't laugh. "We got trouble. I killed some vamps breaking in, and the guards are all missing in action. You gotta get someplace safe."

"Breaking in? Faith, what are you talking about?" Richard didn't appear concerned. He bent and began to carefully pick up the larger pieces of glass on the carpet. "Why would anyone break in here? It's not like we have anything of value. Tourist brochures and outdated computers."

"I don't know." And Faith didn't care. "Don't really matter. They were comin' into the building, and that means you ain't safe."

The Mayor wasn't moving toward the door. In fact, he appeared impatient and frustrated. The tic was back in his face and he glared at her for an instant before his expression smoothed. "Faith, I'm not going anywhere. Have a seat. There's work to be done. If you're so worried about the security here, make some changes. It is your job now, after all. Hire or fire whoever you want. Talk to Joan in the morning; she can get you all of the applications we have on file for security positions. If none of those are good enough, I'll authorize an ad for the paper."

"But…" If Faith picked him up, she could at least get him out of the building. After that, she'd have a problem.

"Sit. Down." The Mayor's voice sharpened.

Faith hurried to a chair and sat down. She hated it when he was angry with her.

"Thank you. Now, let me show you what I want you to work on. It's right up your alley, _and _it will give you a chance to fix this security problem you think I have." He rummaged in a desk drawer. "Here are the current guard schedules and personnel files.

Faith reluctantly took the manila folders. The schedule was straight out of her recent past. Calendar grids filled with cribbed writing. Names and shift times. Duty stations. Enough like Giles' patrol schedule to make her hands sweat. And the Mayor expected her to fill these out.

"Now, I've only budgeted for the twelve guards we have, and funds are tight. If you decide you need more manpower, I'll have to see where I can cut back." At least Richard hadn't noticed Faith's burgeoning panic. "I'm still studying the emails Allan was exchanging with his demon buddies as well. You up for some more demon hunting and information gathering?"

"You bet." Anything to avoid those damned schedules.

Her answer pleased Richard. Beaming, he leaned back in his chair – and crushed Faith's spirit. "Excellent. Get the schedules ready by noon tomorrow. Only for next week, though. I try to post them mid-day on Wednesday. It's good to have a chance to plan your life around your schedule, right? Give the boys enough time to figure out when they can spend time with their families."

Tomorrow at noon. He was crazy. Faith might be able to do it by the end of the week. And that was a big might. "OK," she choked out. "What kinda demon stuff you got?"

"Allan arranged to purchase some items from a broker. I'm not sure exactly what. The invoice mentioned a box of some sort." He shrugged. "Whatever it is can't be good. I mean, Allan _was _working with those vampires. And what I've dug up on the broker makes him sound like a real scumbag, Faith."

Speaking of things Allan had hoped to buy… Faith glanced around the room. "You take your books to Giles?" They weren't on his desk or anywhere else in the office.

Faith was an experienced fighter. She'd patrolled cemeteries, docks, and warehouses in two cities. And she still shrank away from the lethal look the Mayor gave her. "Faith, I'm going to

say this one final time, and then we will never bring it up again."

She'd never heard that tone in his voice and never wanted to again. Pressing back into the chair, Faith tried to fold into herself. To get away from his anger.

"I do not work for the Council. Neither do you. You work for me. If I had wanted you to take my Books to Mr. Giles, I would have told you to do so. I did not. You will not mention the Council again and I would prefer that you not have anything to do with anyone from your former life." The Mayor paused and pinned Faith with his gaze. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." The acknowledgement sounded strangled. That's the way Faith felt. The Mayor's anger wrapped around her in tight bands. What would he do if he found out that she'd spent the morning with Tara?

It didn't matter. Faith was _never _telling him. She forced herself straight, and met his eyes. "Sorry, Boss. Guess I ain't used to being out of the House yet. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't, Faith. We have a lot of work to do here; there's a very important meeting coming up, and I'll need you to be on your game." Richard extracted a set of keys from his pocket and locked his desk drawers. "Now, it's been a very long day. Meetings after meetings. It's all I do. I'd like to go home and put my feet up. I need you to get those schedules complete and tomorrow I'll give you the details on this shipment Allan arranged so you can make the pick-up for me."

Schedule maker and personal shopper. It was a letdown from superhero and Slayer. Faith gripped the folders in her hands tightly. This was what she'd signed on for, and Richard was right. She had to move on. The Council was her past. The Mayor was her future. "I'll walk ya' out; make sure you get home safe."

"You take protecting me very seriously." Wrapping an arm around Faith, Richard walked toward the door. "It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside."

He was making fun of her, Faith thought. Until she saw his approving smile. "That's why you hired me. I'm not gonna let nothin' happen to you." She relaxed against him. "Doing schedules is just a bonus."

The Mayor's booming laugh echoed in the empty lobby. "You are such a wonderful girl, Faith. Bright, funny, devoted to me. What more could I ask for?"

Faith didn't know so she didn't bother to answer. She basked in his compliments and let him steer her outside, where a car idled at the curb.

"This is my ride. Hop in. We'll drop you off, too." Richard trotted down the stairs with a burst of energy.

"Nah, I'm good, Boss." Faith wanted to take another look around. And, now that they were outside, she felt more vampires in the area. Not right around the corner. The pull on her senses was too faint for that. Close enough to make Faith worry, though. Was there another group planning to break in? She needed to find out what they wanted. "And I want to get started on the schedules." Eventually.

A driver got out of the car and opened the back door for the Mayor. "Don't stay out too late, Faith. I need you bright eyed and bushy-tailed for work tomorrow. I'll expect you here by 9:00 in the morning."

Better than the crack of dawn meetings Wes had wanted. "I'll be there." She waited at the curb until the car was out of sight and then jogged back down the alley. The side door was unlocked, just as she'd left it, allowing Faith back into City Hall.

"Even Giles has better security," she bitched. No guards, no alarms. And locks any two-year old in her old neighborhood could pick. It was easier to find the light switch this time, but the view hadn't changed. Junk. That was the only thing in the room.

Or was it?

Wandering slowly past a stack of battered boxes, Faith noticed one section of the concrete floor was discolored. It also didn't fit flush with the rest of the flooring. And what concrete slab came with hinges along one edge and a worn crevasse on the opposite side that looked suspiciously like a hand hold?

The back of Faith's neck prickled. This was not good. Questioning her sanity, Faith nonetheless reached down and lifted the trap door open. It moved easily and silently. Someone used it often and kept it well maintained. A metal ladder descended from the storage room into a tunnel below. Pushing her senses outward, Faith didn't feel anything in the vicinity.

She started to climb down and then reconsidered. Her only weapon was a dagger, and she had no backup. If she went into the tunnel and ran into trouble, there was a good chance Faith wouldn't make it out. Faith needed to be smart. She needed a plan. For now… Closing the trap door, Faith stacked crates and boxes over the door. No one was getting through here until she was ready for them. As an added safety measure, she'd hit the hardware store on the way into the office in the morning. A new lock for the door was definitely in order.

A/N: In case you missed the not on my profile page, RL has reared its ugly head. For the next few months, I'll be cutting back the updates to one each week. My apologies.


	31. Chapter 31

Tara hesitated on the Summers' front porch. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be in the happiest place on Earth. Not Disneyland. Mickey Mouse was far from Tara's mind. She longed to be standing outside Faith's apartment, knowing Faith was kneeling inside and waiting for her. Instead, she reluctantly knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.

She didn't wait long. The door opened seconds later, and a tired, rumpled Giles waved her inside. "If I may be so bold, you look as tired as I feel, my dear."

Tired was a pale description. Tara didn't know about her appearance; however, she felt as limp as overcooked noodles. "If anyone ever tells you that teaching is easy, they are lying," she mumbled. "And teaching budding witches?" Her (mostly) mock shudder drew a smile from Giles. "We _did _avoid blowing anything up or burning anything down, though." Barely. Noreen really had a future as a fire starter. "What about you? Any news on the Ascension or why the Mayor made it look like Mr. Finch was working with the vampires?"

"I have found nothing." His smiled became a tight-lipped grimace. "We have only a few minor references to such an event." His hand hovered near the small of Tara's back without actually touching it as he steered her toward the living room. "Willow has been working on the computer."

"Not really your thing, is it?" Tara asked at the disdain in his voice on the final word.

Expression becoming sheepish, Giles shook his head. "Information gleaned from invisible sources stored on invisible shelves inside a piece of electronic equipment? Most certainly not."

"Because ancient texts written by poorly-educated men or religious fanatics – many of whom lived in isolation from the outside world – are more reliable." Some of Tara's exhaustion lifted as she teased Giles. "That's a mature attitude for the Senior Watcher in town," she continued as they walked into Research Central for the night.

Lydia, far more relaxed than the last time Tara had met her, glanced up from the book on her lap. "It is a shared psychosis, Tara. The first year of classes at the Watcher Academy is devoted to the hatred and dismissal of anything written or invented after the twelfth century."

"It's a miracle they drive," Joyce chimed in. She winked at Tara and patted the cushion next to her in invitation.

Then Buffy jumped on the Giles Bashing Train. "If you'd ever see his car, Tara… It's slower than any horse and buggy. You could walk faster than he drives. I think it's his rebellion against the evils of automobiles."

Laughter lightened the previously somber mood of the room. Tara felt happier than she had since leaving Faith's apartment as she dropped onto the couch next to Joyce, curling her legs to one side. "Rebellion? I don't believe it. Mr. Giles is the epitome of tradition and respectability."

"You are so smooth, Ru. You've got the poor girl completely snowed." The movement of Lydia's lips was so small and brief, it was unclear if Lydia was smiling or suffering from an involuntary facial twitch. "When we are finished with this interminable research, you must tell her about your days as Ripper. At least then Tara will know you are not the stuffed-shirt you so aptly portray."

"Not stuffed," Tara protested. "Just a little starched."

Giles bowed his head briefly in Tara's direction before making a deeper obeisance for his Dominant. "As soon as this is over, my Lady, I assure you I shall regale Tara with the story of my misspent youth."

Brushing his shoulder with her fingers, Lydia helped him take a seat on the floor next to her chair. "Until then, it's back to work for the lot of us. I reached out to some schoolmates from my Academy days. They've begun a comprehensive search of all Council resources for the Ascension. Oliver, one of my oldest and dearest, called me this morning. The only thing he's uncovered so far is a reference to an Ascension related to a demon named Lo-Hash. It's a very ancient text from the Ural region, and Oliver's mastery of the Uralic languages is far from impressive. He's hunting down an expert to provide the most accurate interpretation."

As Lydia spoke, Willow's fingers danced across her keyboard. She picked up where Lydia left off. "We may not need Oliver's information. There's some stuff on Lo-Hash online."

Tara noticed it wasn't only Giles who stiffened at the word "online." Lydia wasn't as accepting as she'd pretended.

"It's all scattered and in pieces across a dozen sites. Even I don't trust some of them. I mean, who thinks Brad Pitt is really vampire?" Willow rolled her eyes and waved her hands in the air. "Some people need a reality check."

Willow needed one, too. It was late. Tara was tired. "What about Lo-Hash?" If things continued in this vein, she'd have a reputation for being a real bitch. Tara rubbed both hands over her face and concentrated on relaxing, one muscle at a time.

"Oh, right. Lo-Hash was this really big demon. Like Lydia said, it popped up in the Urals a few centuries ago." Willow's chipper tone indicated she either hadn't noticed Tara's snippy attitude or she was used to that reaction to her long-winded explanations. "It's pretty normal. Big demon. Tiny, unprepared city. Put the two together and you have complete destruction." She sat upright on the floor, tapped a few keys, and spun the laptop around. A full-screen drawing of a four-winged beast resembling a Chinese dragon displayed.

"How does that help us, Will?" Buffy leaned her head against Xander's knees. At her unspoken signal, he reached down and massaged her shoulders. "We've fought all kinds of demons. I haven't seen one that looks like that, but what's the big deal? Decapitation is easy with the right blade."

Willow channeled Janna long enough to pin Buffy with a cool stare. "I wasn't finished."

"Oops. My bad." Buffy met Willow's eyes and stuck out her tongue. "It's hard to tell, with you jumping from point to point. Brad Pitt? Snakes? I got confused. Can you break it down for me? Please, Will?" Her attempt at Xander's puppy dog expression was comical.

"Xander Lavelle Harris, I thought I told you not to teach her that." Joyce pointed a finger at a grinning Xander. "It's pathetic – and not in a good way. Dominants should command, not beg." Going against her own advice, she turned to Willow. "Please, please get us back on track and tell us about Lo-Hash."

What was wrong with her? Despite joking with Giles when she arrived, Tara couldn't get in step with the group. Their laughter rubbed on her already raw nerves. If she wasn't a paid member of the research team. If Faith wasn't somehow involved. For an instant, Tara longed for the days of hiding in her dorm room with only Maxie and Trish for occasional company.

"Before Lo-Hash was a church-sized demon eating up the people in the village, two of the sites I found claim he was a sorcerer. A run-of-the-mill evil magic-user who became a demon." All of Willow's laughter was gone when she announced, "One of the online writers called the process 'The Ascension'. Supposedly, it's when a human completes this long, complicated ritual and becomes a demon."

"So…And, Will, feel free to step if I've got it all wrong." Xander's massage had turned into a white-knuckled grip on Buffy's shoulder. "The Mayor of Sunnydale is looking for a set of books about this ritual thing? You know, the one you just mentioned? The one where he becomes a demon and eats us all?"

Spinning her laptop to its original position, Willow nodded slowly. "You're all with the right, Xan. Sorry." She cleared her throat and shifted uneasily on the carpet. "It gets worse. I think. Um…I did some more digging through the City Hall main frame this afternoon," Willow announced. Tara idly noted that Willow's attention was once again locked onto her computer. It was a wise move. Janna's expression indicated she was far from happy with Willow's actions. "Something isn't right. More than the emails I found last night." In defiance of her usual information dump, she fell silent.

No one said anything this time.

Why not? In the short time Tara had known Willow, the younger girl had pushed the envelope over and over. Verbally with Faith. Magically, according to Xander. Now with the computer. Janna clearly had her hands full. The group in the living room couldn't be surprised by the tension that appeared to have sprung up between Janna and Willow. But they needed answers. Now. Until Janna shut Willow down completely, she offered the only real hope they had. "What else did you find?" A little of her impatience leaked into the question, and Willow's head snapped up.

"Answers. Yeah. I didn't find a lot of those. Questions, though…I got those in spades. Whatever that means. Spades are little shovels or those things on playing cards." Willow's voice was thin and tight as she rambled and tapped repetitively at one key on her laptop.

She might have continued all night if Janna hadn't scooted closer and gently kissed the side of her head. "Easy, _dragᾰ. _Stay focused for a minute. There will be plenty of time for spades and cards later." She took the laptop from Willow's lap and set it on the floor behind her. "Come here. This sounds like a very unhappy story, and I need to hold you. It makes me feel better."

_Faith was warm and soft in Tara's arms. Nuzzling the back of Faith's neck, Tara enjoyed the mix of sweat and the spice of Faith's skin. Tara shifted in discomfort. Goddess, she needed more. She needed Faith. But this…This was a close second to ordering Faith to take a spot between Tara's thighs. Tara tightened her hold on Faith. Let the feel of Faith pressed against her soak into her soul._

With a start, Tara snapped back to reality and stared in confusion at the hand on her thigh. "Honey, are you alright?" Joyce asked in a soft voice. She observed Tara intently.

"I'm f-fine." Perfect. The stutter. Shrinking away, Tara curled more tightly into the corner of the couch. She had to pull herself together.

Joyce's eyes narrowed. Luckily, Willow had calmed down enough to resume her explanation regarding the emails. "The Mayor created a few emails linking the Deputy Mayor to Balthazar, but there were more. A lot more. And these were from the real Allan Finch. I didn't have a chance to read all of them, but the ones I did are from Finch to Balthazar's Head Vampire Vincent. Finch wasn't there that night to kill you or Faith, Buffy. He was there to ask for your help."

"What do you mean?" Giles was the first to respond. He sat forward. "We assumed the Eliminati were here to retrieve Balthazar's amulet, to restore him to power. What would they want with you, Buffy?"

"That's the $64,000 question." Buffy hopped up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. "None of this makes sense." Tara wondered if Buffy was talking to her audience or herself. "We have a demon and his minions looking for an amulet. A Deputy Mayor helping them – but not trying to kill us. A Mayor who lies more than most politicians and likes books about becoming a demon. It doesn't fit together."

Actually, it did. It made a terrible kind of puzzle. "What if Finch knew that the Mayor was going to use the Books of Ascension to become Lo-Hash, and he was using Balthazar to keep that from happening?" Tara linked her fingers in her lap and fought the urge to run to Faith's apartment. If she was right, and the Mayor was evil, Faith was in danger.

"Then we need those Books," Buffy answered. "How about it, Giles? Will the Council spring for a new set of expensive demon encyclopedias?"

"I have sent the request to Quentin; he has yet to respond." Giles removed his glasses, idly toying with the earpieces. "I fear we do not have the time to wait for him to decide we are worthy of his attention. Lydia…?"

"I agree, pet. Buffy, you'll have the money as soon as the banks open in the morning." Lydia yawned and stood. "Forgive me. I have an early appointment at UCLA. Rupert, do try to get at least a few minutes of sleep." She kissed the top of his head before striding out of the room.

Giles gazed after her; Tara understood his suddenly bereft expression. She was sure she'd worn it all afternoon. "Willow," he finally said, "there is one piece of evidence we are missing. Why would Balthazar work with Deputy Mayor Finch? If Tara's theory is correct, I understand Mr. Finch's motivation. Demons rarely ally with humans, however. Does your internet tell you that?"

* * *

The lights from her apartment provided just enough light for Faith to read the work schedules the Mayor had provided. She'd chosen a spot on the roof, rather than inside. Inside still carried Tara's image. The jump rope, sliced into halves and partially knotted, lay under the plant-less chain.

No way could Faith concentrate on anything other than the feel of the rope against her wrists and Tara's fingers on her skin inside. She'd dragged the couch cushions and a blanket to the roof to complete her work for the Mayor. And work it was. The schedules made no sense. Faith had toured City Hall once. That single exposure provided enough knowledge to understand that the security grid didn't have holes. It had football field-sized gaps. The Mayor employed only six guards (some of them merely part-timers) to cover a 24/7 schedule. One guard manned the front desk during regular business hours. Two others worked a mid-shift on alternating days, providing relief for the front desk and perimeter sweeps every hour.

Except...Faith had never seen them "sweep" near the Mayor's office. In fact, she'd never seen them anywhere _other_ than the front desk.

The final two employees normally worked the evenings and overnight. Both were on vacation for the rest of the month. "Fucking stupid." Taking one of the blank schedules she'd made after barricading the tunnel, Faith split the uncovered hours between the two part-time guards. They'd have to work overtime, but everyone needed extra cash, right?

Making schedules wasn't hard at all. Faith had anticipated an all-night cram session. Instead, it had taken fifteen minutes.

Flipping through the rest of the schedule pile, Faith checked out the past guard assignments. They couldn't be right. She flattened out her blanket and spread the schedules along the surface in date order. Six months ago, there had been twenty members of the security team. Twenty. And they'd been assigned in overlapping shifts to specific locations within City Hall. Each month since then, however, the number of names on the calendars dropped. Twenty, fifteen, twelve. Between December and February, eight guards had quit or been fired. Of the guards who remained, half of them were on lengthy vacations, if the notes in the files were accurate.

Faith was going to have to hire more guards. And, distaste for research and fact-finding aside, she needed to know why the original crew had shrunk – and why no one had hired replacements. It wasn't normal. Faith leaned back and stared at the stars. There was a tunnel into City Hall reeking of vampires. The Mayor's Security staff was so tiny it barely covered business hours without a lot of overtime. It all added up to one thing in Faith's mind: badness.

Badness which had obviously involved Deputy Mayor Finch. Somehow Faith had to get the Mayor to understand the danger he was in. She jammed the papers into their folders and climbed back into the apartment, leaving the cushions and blankets behind. Unease crawled through her. The same cold, slimy feeling Faith had gotten every time her bedroom door had inched open and another john had come to visit. Something was very wrong at City Hall.

How could Faith fix it? If Willow was around, she'd be all over the research. She'd know how to find why the guards left. Giles would have already called some Council connections to get qualified candidates for the open guard positions. And Faith and Buffy would have tested them out on the mats.

Faith would have to do all of that on her own.

The large apartment echoed with emptiness. Ignoring that - and the questions whirling through her mind - Faith wrapped her hands in the brightly colored cotton bands the Mayor had stocked near the heavy bag. The first punch landed, and the bag swung wildly. The chain jangled.

It was familiar. Familiar and exactly what Faith needed. She swung without thought or plan. The bag was only a bag. It wasn't painted with a faux demon's face. There were no bull's eyes marking the best kill spots. Feet and hands constantly in motion, Faith let her worry over the schedules, the Mayor, and Tara slip away. She'd figure out what to do in the morning.


	32. Chapter 32

Faith's hands ached pleasantly as she exited the hardware store with her new door lock installation kit. Taking time for last night's workout had been smart. She'd needed to blow off a little steam. Everything seemed better and brighter today. She had a job that was way better than her last. A boss who cared about her. Life was good.

There was even enough time left before her meeting with the Mayor for some breakfast. Breakfast meant only one thing: doughnuts.

Still… Why mess with perfection? Faith bypassed the doughnut shop in case anyone from the House was there. The perfect day took a slight turn toward crappy. Doughnuts meant maybe meeting Tara again. But Tara was part of the Council now. The Mayor had been very clear the night before. No contact with anyone connected to her former job.

Clouds blew in and the sun disappeared. The day now matched Faith's spiraling mood.

Picking up her pace, Faith hoped the rain held off until she got to work. She'd grab something to eat after her meeting with the Mayor. By the time she unveiled the complete security plan she'd created before Slaying her heavy bag, it would be lunchtime. The doughnut place would be closed. Faith had never seen Tara at the DMP. Eating there would be safe.

Her stomach rumbled, and Faith started planning lunch. As soon as she wowed the Mayor with the schedules, she'd call Willow. It would be easy to con Tara's number out of her.

A couple of Doublemeat Meat Medleys for her and a chicken sandwich or…a salad! Tara seemed like a salad girl.

What the Hell was Faith doing? She wasn't going to call Willow. And she wasn't going to drag greasy food across Sunnydale like she was on some kind of date with Tara. Fuck! She was losing her mind over some (admittedly) great sex.

The front door to City Hall nearly came off its hinges as Faith slammed it open and grunted at the guard at the desk. Her rapid footsteps echoed on the marble floor. "Mornin', Joan." Shoving all thoughts of sex and dates aside, Faith put her plan in motion the second she entered the Mayor's office. The Mayor was counting on her. Keeping him safe was her new job. Tara and the Council were Faith's past.

A memory of Tara's blue eyes, lit from behind with passion and Dominance, nearly derailed her. Tara had very much been Faith's _present _the day before. She had to try and shake the memories off, though. "The Boss said you could get me some files? I'm lookin' for new guards." Faith walked over to the window behind Joan's desk and stared desperately down onto the street below. _"Go away,_ she pleaded. _"Just fucking go away," _she told that vision of Tara. Faith had made her decision. It was too late to go back. No matter how much Faith was attracted to Tara, any relationship with her was a bad idea.

Slowly, painfully, the memory of Tara faded. Faith leaned against the window as rain pelted the glass in staccato bursts.

"We do have a few applications on file. Not many, I'm afraid. Are you sure you want me to get those?" Faith turned away from the window in time to see Joan grimace. "I used to help with staffing decisions, and those men…" Her voice lowered and she glanced around as if to make sure they were alone. "Honey, those men were scary. Not good scary, like you'd want to take them home and let them you tie you up. No. These made me want to hide under my desk and call the police. Prison tattoos and thousand-yard stares. A couple of them were Red Cuffs." If her voice dropped any lower, even Slayer hearing wouldn't be enough to distinguish her next comment. "I wondered if they'd _caused _those Red Cuffs. That's how horrible they were."

How had Faith ever thought this day was good? If the guys looking for a job were prison scum, it would put a big kink in her plans. She'd hoped to simply hire all of the applicants in Joan's filing cabinet. "I'll take a look anyway." Joan was nice – and human; she wasn't a Slayer. Scary took on a different meaning when you fought vampires and demons on a nightly basis. Maybe Joan just didn't like anyone with ink or a Red Cuff. "Think you could have 'em ready soon? I just need to give the Boss some info and I'll be right back." If she was lucky, Faith might have the first new guard hired before lunch.

"Sure. You go on in. The Mayor said you'd be stopping by. Just so you know, he's on a call with Mr. Trick, some local businessman who's been doing consulting work for the City." Joan waved Faith toward the door. "I'll grab those file right now. If I'm not here, I'll leave them on my desk."

"Thanks." Faith straightened the collar of her shirt and wiped suddenly sweaty hands on her jeans before opening the door. She'd put a lot of effort into the guard schedules and her security plan. If the Mayor didn't like them, what was she going to do? Unlike her usual grand entrance, Faith crept quietly into the office.

The Mayor didn't see her. He sat with his back to the door, handset pinned between his head and his left shoulder. Both hands waved excitedly in the air. "Yes, yes. I know it's risky. I knew that when I recruited her. The advantages outweighed the possible danger."

Even though Joan had indicated Faith had permission to enter, this didn't feel right. Faith hovered near the door. She shouldn't be here, listening to the Mayor's conversation.

"Look, Trick, it's done. I'll take care of the entrance. Last night was a mistake. I'll get everything cleared up before the ritual tonight."

Ritual? Was the Mayor attending one of the House witch-y classes? Faith didn't think he seemed the type. He'd always been pretty anti-Council.

The Mayor fell silent again, and Faith saw his shoulders stiffen. "Now you listen here, I don't care about Balthazar. I beat him once; I can do it again. He's next to useless without that stupid amulet anyway. Faith said she and that blonde Slayer stole it from the Eliminati. No one, not even a Watcher, would hand that over to a demon. I'm sure it's safely locked up or on a plane to Scotland to be studied."

How did the Mayor know all that about Balthazar? Faith didn't remember him ever asking Giles about it, and _they'd _never talked about it. With a mental shrug, she let it go. The Mayor didn't tell her everything, and he'd mentioned before how he knew a lot about Sunnydale. He sure as Hell had a good grasp of the way the Council worked. Faith smirked, imagining Giles and Wes carefully packaging the amulet for a trip to the International Headquarters. It would be wrapped in so much bubble wrap they'd have to use a refrigerator box.

"Now, I have to go. Faith should be here soon." Actually, Faith was already here. The Mayor would know that as soon as he turned around. "It's time I brought her fully on board, but I need a little more time. More leverage." The Mayor gripped the handset in his left hand and straightened in his chair. "I'm still working out the details, but I want her at the ritual tonight. She needs to see all of the changes. I'll have the rest of the plan worked out by then. Yes. I know that. I'll see you tonight." He turned and spotted Faith.

Faith shivered. His smile failed to warm her this morning. In fact, there was something… She ignored the shiver that worked up her spine. "Hey, Boss. Got those schedules you wanted."

"How long have you been here?" Steepling his fingers under his chin, the Mayor regarded Faith intently.

"Just got here," Faith lied, not understanding why she didn't want the Mayor to know she'd been in his office for part of his conversation. "Joan said to come on in. You're always on the phone, huh? Don't think I could do that. Not enough action." She sounded like Willow and pressed her lips together before more words tumbled out.

For a minute, she didn't think he believed her. Richard stared at her while Faith fidgeted. "Those calls are a necessary evil. I do miss the chance to get out and do, though. Hopefully, that will all change. I've got plans for the future, Faith. Plans that don't include sitting in this office." He held out his hand. "Now, about those schedules."

Walking across the room, Faith handed over her work. She didn't sit down; she was too nervous. Too on edge.

"These are good. Very good." The Mayor shuffled through her new security schedule and carefully written plan to hire a dozen more guards. "But I'm afraid it's out of the question. Sunnydale is not a wealthy city, Faith." With a sigh, he put down the file and rubbed a hand over his face. "I told you last night that I didn't have the budget for much hiring."

He had. Faith thought it was strange, though, based on the earlier schedules. "What happened? I saw the other lists. Used to be bunches of guards."

Her question surprised the Mayor. Faith saw his eyes widen and then he dropped to the files on his desk. "Yes. There used to be many more." The long silences really sucked. Faith gripped the back of one of the chairs, right leg wiggling. "I really hadn't expected such a comprehensive report."

Why didn't the Mayor seem happy about her work? Dread coiled so tightly inside Faith she was glad she hadn't eaten. "You…you like it, though, right?" Her voice got lost in the large office. "I mean, I get not havin' a lot of money. How many you think I could hire?" She could redo the schedule. The overlap would be smaller, sure, but at least the Mayor would be safer.

"Let me check with the people down in finance, Faith." God, the Mayor was still upset. The stilted cadence to his speech was nothing like his usual cheerful delivery. "I think we may simply have a miscommunication about your duties – which I plan to clear up tonight."

Tonight. The ritual Faith had overheard him talking about. "You got a dinner or somethin'?"

"I do," he responded and then immediately clarified. "We do, actually. I'd really like for you to be here. I'm working on a very special project, and the next couple of months are critical. You'll play a big part in our success or failure, Faith. I'm relying on you."

"Whatever you need. I'm your girl, Boss." Faith met his eyes squarely. He still trusted her. He still _needed _her. "If I ain't gonna be interviewing for the security jobs, you got anything else?"

Picking up the baseball from the special holder on his desk, the Mayor appeared thoughtful. "You know, maybe there is. It isn't really your area of expertise, but I think you'll be able to handle this."

Excitement bubbled through Faith's veins. She leaned forward, waiting for the Mayor to explain the new job.

"Someone's been hacking into the City Hall computer. I've got a friend in town who's a whiz at computers. Not me." The Mayor's grin briefly reappeared. "I'm old fashioned; communication should be face to face. Mr. Trick," Faith recognized the name Joan had mentioned, "has been tracking down the identity of the hacker. I'm sure you're familiar with Ms. Willow Rosenberg."

"Willow?" No way. "Why's she messing with your computers?"

"I was hoping you could find out, Faith." He stopped tossing the ball in the air and leaned forward. "To be honest, I'm worried about her. Mr. Trick thought your Willow was only looking for information to clear you of Allan's murder."

Faith took an involuntary step back.

"Hey!" The Mayor noticed the movement. "None of that. I know you didn't kill him on purpose. He was one of the bad guys."

Right. It had been an accident. And Finch had deserved it. One day, Faith would stop jumping every time his name came up.

"As I was saying, I thought Willow was only trying to get information on Allan. I was all for that, Faith. Anyone looking out for my Slayer is OK by me." Richard shook his head sadly. "Then Trick realized she'd continued to hunt through all of our computers. Every program and system. He got very technical; he's excited by that sort of thing. This Willow has been looking at _everything,_" Moving aside the files Faith had given him, the Mayor pulled out a single sheet of paper.

Faith took it and scanned the information. "What is it?"

"It's a…a trail of sorts. A list of all the places Willow managed to hack into." Richard got up and came around his desk. "You know this girl. Has she done this sort of thing before?"

"Yeah. She's kinda the head researcher at the House. I mean, Giles's got all the books and shit, but Willow uses her computer. She and Giles used to argue. Old dusty books versus the Internet." Faith didn't think anyone had won the debate.

"She uses a computer for research. She's researching _me_? Does she think Allan wasn't the only one allied with vampires?" Richard's expression was appalled. "Faith, you have to get her to stop. Talk to her. Do whatever you have to do, but you have to get her to stop!"

* * *

Tara staggered into the kitchen. Goddess, how could it be morning already? She'd just gotten to sleep three hours ago. Maxie gave her a wide birth, clutching her bowl of cereal protectively to her chest. "I'm not going to steal your breakfast, Maxie."

"Coulda fooled me." Maxie eyed Tara warily. "Have you slept at all? Eaten? You look like Hell."

"Max!" Trish's rebuke would have carried more weight if she hadn't nodded agreement with each of Maxie's comments. "Be nice or Tara might turn you into a frog."

Everyone was a comedian. "Not a frog." Yuck. "Maxie the Rat has a nice ring to it." Stomping to the refrigerator, Tara snagged a yogurt. There was granola in a nearby cabinet. She got all settled at the table – and didn't have a spoon.

"I'll get it." Proving she was an amazing friend, Maxie hopped up and retrieved the missing utensil.

"You're the best, Maxie." Tara dumped granola into the yogurt cup. "Trish is all wrong about you. All wrong." Taking her first bite, Tara thought she might live. She just wasn't sure that she wanted to.

"I know I'm all that, Tar. Trish does, too, when I'm not being a brat." Maxie winked at Trish, who crossed her arms over her chest and wiggled an eyebrow. "Which is most of the time, I admit. Now that we all acknowledge my greatness, want to tell us what's been going on with you?"

Absolutely not. Tara had no desire to talk about the last few days. "I've been working at the House. There's some big demon they think is headed our way. Late nights researching. I'm beat; I think I finally got home about six this morning."

The explanation should have worked. Unfortunately for Tara, Trish had a gift for sensing prevarication. "You can't have been working since yesterday morning. I saw you on campus yesterday. And, Tara? You looked even worse then. Is it the bond? Is Faith still in trouble?"

"Yes. Yes, to all of that. But that isn't why I w-was so ups-set." Tara reluctantly admitted. "I…I scened yesterday. Before you saw me."

She saw Maxie and Trish exchange glances. "You know, your first scene rarely goes right." Trish reached across the table and gently touched Tara's arm. "I'm sure it wasn't as big a disaster as you think."

If only they knew. "The scene went fine." Tara shoved the yogurt out of the way and dropped her head to the table. "It was more than fine. It was wonderful. Perfect. I never wanted it to end." She could feel Trish and Maxie staring at her, their confusion a phantom pressure on the top of her head.

After a couple of minutes, Trish ventured a hesitant, "Do you feel guilty? Because you weren't with Faith?"

"No," Tara mumbled into the table. Was there a spell that would let her sink through the floor? She didn't want to talk about this. Didn't want to relive, again, the best and worst moments of her life.

"Help us out here, Tar." Trish, for all her usual levity, sounded out of patience. "Tell us what happened."

Maxie did Trish one better. Tara heard her get up and then a tiny hand smacked into the back of her head.

"Ouch!" OK. It hadn't really hurt. It was the principal of the matter. Tara's head shot up. "You're going to let her get away with that?" she asked Trish.

"Absolutely. You're lucky Maxie got there first. I'd have hit you harder. Stop being a wimp and tell us what happened. We're your friends. If you can't admit all your deep, dark secrets to us, who _can _you talk to?" Trish pointed out logically.

Trish's logic – and her friendship – trumped Tara's confusion and growing embarrassment. "It wasn't the scene that was the problem. It was…It was the submissive. When I tried to hold her afterward, she pushed me away." And Goddess, it still hurt. Tara struggled against tears. She'd cried far too much yesterday.

"Did she say…" Maxie started to prod for details.

Tara cut her off. "It wasn't some sub I picked up at the Club." She lost the battle with the tears. "It was Faith. I scened with Faith but she didn't want me to stay afterward."


	33. Chapter 33

"Oh, Tara. That's awful!" Trish pulled Tara into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. Is she going to repudiate the bond? I didn't even know you'd managed to break through and connect with her. Did she say anything? Maybe it's not too late. Maybe you can change her mind."

The hug felt good. Better when Maxie joined in and grabbed Tara from behind. But Tara couldn't hide away, no matter how much she wanted to. "Faith can't repudiate what isn't there," she mumbled into Trish's shoulder. Sitting up, she met Trish's eyes. "I knew she didn't feel the bond, and I went back to her place anyway."

She'd expected a reaction. Disgust. Disappointment. Something. Trish surprised her. There was no judgment at all, only understanding. "Did you think being with her would make the bond happen?"

Had she? "I don't know. Maybe. I wasn't thinking much at all." All she remembered was _feeling_. She'd been connected with Faith even without the bond.

"Tara." Trish raised an eyebrow as if Tara was a sub under her command.

A trickle of amusement pushed its way forward. "I've got one of those, too." Suiting actions to words, Tara let her own eyebrow rise. "Put it away, please." Needing to move, she stood and paced in the tiny kitchen. "I'll talk."

"I knew you'd see it my way." Trish grinned and motioned for Maxie to climb into her lap.

It gave Tara time to pull her scattered thoughts together. "I've done a lot of thinking," she told her audience. "Going to Faith's yesterday was a mistake, but I don't regret it. It was my fault, what happened at the end. I forgot. She was so amazing, so _perfect_, and I forgot that she didn't feel the bond.

"I was waiting for my 'happily ever after'." It sounded trite when she said it out loud, yet it had been so real in her imagination.

_Faith's skin was tacky with drying sweat. It gripped Tara's fingers as she rubbed them up and down Faith's arms. "You were perfect, my Slayer." Reaching through the link was pointless; Tara did it anyway. Pushing outward, she expected to run into a barrier…_

_It wasn't there. It was gone. Hardly daring to hope, she froze – and felt Faith's chuckle tickle her mind. _

Neither Trish nor Maxie spoke. Tara was thankful. "The bond isn't complete. That was my first clue that Faith isn't ready. I just have to figure out why." Tara thought she knew at least part of the answer. Faith had given her several clues yesterday; if only Tara hadn't been too emotional to put the pieces together.

This time, when Tara stopped speaking, Maxie stepped in to fill the void. "You _are _going to let us help, right?" Huddling into Trish's arms, she peered uncertainly between Trish and Tara. "I can call John back. If you want."

"Maxine," Trish warned immediately, and Maxie dropped her head.

"It's OK, Trish." Tara walked over and gently touched Maxie's slumped shoulder. "In normal circumstances, John might be able to tell us something useful. Unfortunately, I don't trust the Council reports to tell us the truth. At least, not any part of the Council in Faith's past. I've only met one Watcher who seems to care about Faith." Tara nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of that statement. She'd met a total of two Watchers in her life. Wyndham-Pryce and Giles. "I have an appointment to talk with him this morning."

"You're going to tell him about the bond?" Trish appeared concerned. "Are you sure?"

No, Tara wasn't sure. She'd wrestled with the decision since leaving Faith's apartment. "I have to." The truth was simple. For some reason, Faith wasn't ready for the bond. If Tara was ever going to understand, she had to talk to Giles.

Simple wasn't actually so simple, though. Tara's confidence was missing later as she sat across from Giles in his office. "Please relax, Tara. I promise, I am still the same handsome, charming man you met at the Social. I have had far too little sleep, and not nearly enough tea, to change into my ogre persona." Giles got up and came around the desk, taking the chair right next to Tara. "Please, tell me what is bothering you. Perhaps I can help."

"I'm n-not here about me," Tara told him. She'd never have the courage to meet with Giles because of her own problems. "I'm here about Faith."

Giles straightened. "Did you speak to her? Is she well?"

That little bit of concern for Faith… This was the right thing to do. Tara took a deep breath and began. "I spent time with Faith yesterday, Mr. Giles. But that's not why I'm here. Not really." The more Tara talked, the closer she got to the point of no return. She'd done that a lot recently: telling Trish and Maxi about her past, taking the Trial, learning to be a Dominant. Despite her initial fears, those big steps had been the right ones.

So was this. "Mr. Giles, Faith is my submissive." The words crackled with possession and pride. Tara may have admitted the bond to her friends and to Joyce. This time was different. This was the first time she'd openly made the admission by choice.

"Dear Lord." She'd clearly surprised him. "Congratulations, my dear. That's wonderful news." Giles recovered quickly, and his beaming smile warmed her. She'd been right to come today. Unlike Wes, Giles _did _care about Faith.

"There's more," she warned him. "The bond isn't complete." His smile disappeared as Tara continued. "Faith can't feel it, and I can't feel her most of the time. Only when she's very afraid or angry, like the night she killed Deputy Mayor Finch."

Giles watched Tara intently. "You obviously believe I can help in some fashion."

"With the bond? No, Mr. Giles. That's up to Faith." Tara had to believe that. "But I saw the way Mr. Wyndham-Pryce treated her, and Faith said some things yesterday. I need to understand why everyone, Faith included, thinks she's not good enough to be a Slayer." It went against the grain to give out such personal information to anyone, let alone a submissive. Tara forced herself to tell Giles the rest, though. "And maybe you can tell me why Faith begged me not to _hit_ her or tie her down."

Removing his glasses, Giles rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. "The Council will never authorize me to release Faith's files until your bond is officially registered."

"I don't care about the official reports. If I wanted those, I would already have had them." Tara wouldn't betray Maxie's contact at the Council. She _would, _however, use that connection as leverage. "I want to know what _you _know about Faith."

"Ah, that is a problem, Tara." The earpieces on Giles' glasses might never be the same. He twisted and pulled on them as he spoke. "Faith does not speak about her past. Ever."

Tara wasn't accepting his answer. "Tell me what you _do _know," she ordered.

Giles sat up at her tone, eyes dropping for an instant before he recovered. "I know nothing for certain. What I do have is conjecture at best."

Raising one eyebrow very slowly, Tara waited.

"Right. Yes." Clearing his throat, Giles shoved his glasses back on. "Faith's original Watcher was killed by an old, very powerful vampire. When she arrived here, I naturally assumed her attitude was simply her way of grieving for Diana."

"You changed your mind?" Tara honed in on Giles' careful phrasing – and poked at it.

"Very quickly," Giles admitted. "If you spend any time with Faith, some things become obvious. She rebels against rules and authority." He smiled for a moment. "In that respect, she reminded me very much of myself. However, I do not believe Faith is merely a rebel."

* * *

Faith lurked beneath the main staircase of Sunnydale High School and watched the students pour into the hallway. Lunchtime on Wednesday.

Quitting time for Willow. Faith knew she usually headed straight to the House unless Giles had her working on something special. Seconds later, Faith saw Willow bounce down the hallway, babbling at Xander. He wore a glazed expression, indicating Willow had been talking non-stop for a while.

Keeping an eye out for Principal Snyder and her senses peeled for Buffy, Faith slipped into the throng of students. The flow of bodies carried her in the same direction as her target. Faith made sure to loiter near a locker, though, until Xander managed to gain his freedom from Willow and hurry away.

His escape coincided with the ringing bell. Locker doors slammed and tennis shoes squeaked on linoleum as stragglers sprinted for classes or hurried to the cafeteria for lunch.

There were two things Faith had learned during her time as a student here. One, the food sucked. And two, the Physical Education teacher doubled as a lunchroom monitor. That meant there were no PE classes in the middle of the day, and the locker room would be empty.

"Hey, Red." Faith kept her voice casual as she strolled up to Willow.

"What are you doing here? Are you coming back to school? Have you talked with Buffy or Giles about the Mayor?" Faith tuned out most of the words…until Willow mentioned the Mayor.

Looping an arm around Willow's waist, Faith steered her toward the gymnasium. "That's kinda why I needed to see ya'."

"Really?" Faith didn't understand the relief that flashed across Willow's face. Or the even more cheerful note in Willow's voice as she said, "Tara wanted to come talk to you, but Giles told her you might be too mad at us. You aren't mad?" Tilting her head, she peered up at Faith. "Are you?"

"Ain't decided yet." It was the only part of Willow's comment that made sense. And the only part Faith cared about. "Come on. I don't want Snyder to find me. You know he don't like me." The little troll had threatened to throw her out the first week she'd been enrolled because he'd caught her smoking in the quad.

Willow obligingly picked up her pace until she trotted alongside Faith. They made it safely to the locker room. Faith made sure to close the door and flip the lock. "Just in case," she told a staring Willow.

"Sure. OK. Although, I don't think Principal Snyder comes in here. That would be creepy, don't you think?" Willow smiled and perched on the bench seat running between the rows of lockers.

The room smelled like hair spray and sweaty socks. Wrinkling her nose, Faith prowled the area near the door. The Mayor wanted her to keep Willow from spying on him. How was she supposed to do that? Ask? That wouldn't work. This was _Willow._ She had to know everything about everyone.

"Don't we actually have to talk to….um…talk?" Willow asked. Her legs swung back and forth as she watched Faith.

Faith scowled.

Willow's hands shot up in a sign of surrender. "Sorry. It's your show. Whenever you're ready. Just…Janna's got lunch ready and I'm kinda hungry. We were up really late last night, and Janna forgot to get my favorite doughnuts. So I didn't have any breakfast."

Doughnuts. Faith smiled. Doughnuts meant Tara and that tiny table behind the doughnut shop.

Tara was off limits. The thought sent Faith's already questionable mood plummeting. "Tell me why you're spyin' on the Mayor. You been messing with the computers at City Hall."

"Yeah. We were worried about you," Willow admitted. Biting her lip, she gazed beseechingly at Faith. "I'm sorry, Faith. I know you were so happy about the new job."

"Why are you sorry?" The conversation wasn't going the way Faith had planned. Maybe because she hadn't planned at all. "Hell, why are you apologizin' to me? It's Janna that gets all bent outta shape when you do your hackin' shit." Come to think of it, why had Janna allowed Willow to do the hunt through the City Hall systems anyway? She'd been pissed the last time Willow had tried to find information for Buffy using the Internet; she'd been pissed every time Willow had hacked _anything _in the past.

Willow grimaced comically. "You are so right. She was really mad when she realized there was no other way to get information on the Mayor and the Books of Ascension."

Faith stiffened and tried to hide her sudden interest. "Thought Giles had all the good stuff in his 'special' books?"

"Yeah, that's what he says." Rolling her eyes, Willow shrugged. "This time, though, his books had nothing. _I _found everything for him. Even if Janna wasn't happy." Faith wasn't sure if Willow was talking to her or thumbing her nose at Janna through their bond. "It was awesome, Faith. One minute we're completely clueless about the Books and why the demon wanted to sell them to Buffy. And the next, I hit the mother lode. The Ascension and Lo-Hash."

"You're the best," Faith muttered, shivering suddenly. The usually sweltering locker room had chilled. "Janna's gonna have to admit that one day. So what did ya' find?"

It was the wrong thing to ask. Willow frowned. "I thought you knew. You said you knew."

Actually, Faith had avoided that question.

Willow stood up slowly and inched away. She'd always been smart.

But it didn't matter now. Faith stopped pacing and stalked toward Willow. "I _will_ know. Just as soon as you tell me."

"I'm not telling you anything." The refusal would have carried more weight if Willow's voice hadn't wobbled.

Faith knew she was running out of time. The lunch period would end soon. And she had no doubt Willow had mentally reached out to Janna for help. "You're gonna tell me everything, Red." Yanking the knife the Mayor had given her out of its sheath, Faith twisted so that the overhead lights winked off the blade.

"No. No, I'm not." Willow's throat moved as she swallowed hard.

"Ah, don't be like that," Faith advised. She closed the gap between them and pinned Willow to the lockers. "I won't hurt you…if you talk." Willow _needed _to talk. Faith had crossed enough lines. She wasn't looking to cross any more today.

Unfortunately, Willow didn't care about lines. "You mean you don't already know? The Mayor hasn't told you about his plans? There's no way you don't know unless you're completely stupid or the Mayor's just using you," she snapped. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she pressed her lips together stubbornly.

Stupid? Willow thought she was stupid? Some of Faith's good intentions slipped as anger flared. "Shut the fuck up."

"Which is it?" Willow just _had _to talk. She couldn't stay silent, even with Faith's knife to her throat. "Do you want me to be quiet? Or do you want answers? That's your problem, Faith. You have no idea what you want, do you? Even when you were with the Council, you couldn't make up your mind. 'I love Slaying,' you said. 'I'm going to be better than B.' But you wouldn't put in the time. It was more important to sneak out and get drunk."

Forgetting about the knife, Faith back-handed Willow with her free hand.

Blood poured from the resulting cut on Willow's lip. The blow appeared to reinforce Willow's determination – and her disgust at Faith's behavior. "Goddess, I bet you laughed when the Council punished Giles for letting you do that!"

What? The knife wavered for an instant. What the Hell was Willow talking about?

Willow didn't notice. She was too busy yelling at Faith. "You're horrible! He almost lost his job when you killed Deputy Mayor Finch."

"That was an accident," Faith snapped. "I was protecting Buffy. Besides, Finch was dirty."

"No, he wasn't. He was there to give you and Buffy information about the Mayor!" Willow fired back. "Those emails were faked, Faith. Finch wasn't working with the vampires. The Mayor wrote those emails after Finch was already dead, and I can prove it."

That wasn't true! Willow was lying. She had to be. _That's _why the Mayor had sent Faith to get Willow to stop hacking. Willow was telling people lies about the Mayor. "I don't care," she snarled. Anger rose until it choked her. "The Boss ain't got no reason to lie about that."

"Sure he does." Willow's voice reeked with satisfaction and superiority – until Faith shoved the knife tighter against her throat. The skin turned white, and a line appeared. A hair more pressure, and Willow would bleed.

"The Boss knows you've been fuckin' with the computers. You know that? You ain't as smart as you think. Wonder how much you'd like prison? Nobody there's gonna care how smart you are," Faith enjoyed the fear in Willow's eyes. She deserved to be afraid. The Mayor was the only person to ever believe in Faith, and Willow wasn't going to take that away from her.

There was no answer. Willow remained silent, eyes trained on Faith.

"Stay outta the computers," Faith warned Willow. "If the Boss tells me to talk to you again, prison is gonna sound good." She added a hint of force to the dagger, and a trickle of blood stained the blade.

Running footsteps echoed in the hall. Voices shouted.

Faith was out of time. She sheathed her knife. "Remember what I said." Cutting through the gym, past the first few students heading to PE, Faith exited through the side doors.


	34. Chapter 34

"Then what _do _you think, Mr. Giles?" Tara was frustrated. So frustrated she nearly snarled the question. "I know I've only been part of your inner circle for a little while, but I've never seen Faith do anything remotely rebellious. She was, at worst, a little moody." Not to mention funny, smart, and beautiful. Tara kept that to herself, though. "Tell me why the Council hates her."

Giles stiffened at her tone. It wasn't fair to Dominate him. But Tara was past caring about "fair." She needed answers. "The Council does not hate Faith."

"Really?" Tara stood and leaned with her hands on the desk. "Did you see what Watcher Wes," she was so wound up she didn't realize she'd used Faith's nickname for Wyndham-Pryce, "did to Faith? The tests he put her through? The way he treated her?" Tara fired off the questions, one right after the other. "Did you see how tired and defeated she looked?"

"I…I did not." Appearing tired and more than a little defeated now as well, Giles bowed his head. "Once Wesley became Faith's official Watcher, I was cut out of her training."

"You weren't cut out before, though." Softening her approach, Tara went back to her chair. "Tell me about Faith, Mr. Giles. Where is she from? What is her family like? Why was she stationed here?" Tara lacked even the most basic information about Faith's life. How was she supposed to take care of Faith if Giles wouldn't help her?

"I was not previously cut out by the Council, that is true." Giles raised his head and met her eyes. "However, Faith has been loathe to discuss her past with me. Or with anyone. I tried multiple times to convince her to see one of our psychologists…" He fell silent for a moment. "There were signs I recognized. Things I remember from my youth. I have not always lived within the ivory tower frequented by the Council."

Signs. Tara had seen signs, too. Like the "no hitting" and "no tying down" limits. Tara wrapped her arms over her stomach and braced for Giles to continue.

"I often saw Faith flinch away when someone, anyone, really tried to touch her. The very few reports filed by her first Watcher and the Retrieval Team mention that Faith was 'over sexualized'," Giles said.

Tara wasn't familiar with that phrase. "What does that mean?"

Hesitating, Giles rearranged the papers on his desk and the alignment of his desk calendar and pen cup.

This time, Tara waited him out. She stifled the need to scream at him and took a tight hold on her emotional control. Maybe this was one of those tests Althenea had mentioned. If she failed and tried to imitate Noreen's last fireball disaster, Giles might pay the ultimate price.

He took too long, however, and Tara's limited patience ran out. "Mr. Giles?" Faith's Lady Tara made her first appearance. "What. Does. That. Mean." Each word was carefully weighted with just a hint of command.

"Yes. Of course." Giles rushed to fill the vacuum left behind when Tara stopped speaking. "I daresay the reports referenced Faith's need to provoke those around her with sexually-laden remarks. When we first met," his cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat, "she made it clear I might be an acceptable sexual partner."

Tara was not amused. The thought of Faith with anyone else made Tara want to scratch Giles' eyes out. But eclipsing jealousy was a rising nausea. "What…w-would…" She couldn't even finish the question.

There was pity and understanding in Giles' eyes. "Tara, although I have no proof, and Faith has never confided in me, I believe she may have been abused as a child."

* * *

Faith slammed the door behind her. The noise sent two students, who'd been necking just outside, scrambling a safe distance apart. Faith shoved past them and took off. With Slayer speed fully engaged, outrunning Principal Snyder and the flabby school security guards was easy. Leaving Willow's voice behind, though… That was something else.

What had Willow meant? _"The Mayor wrote those emails after Finch was dead." _Faith wrestled with the statement as she left the campus and slowed to a jog. If those emails were fakes and Finch hadn't been working for Balthazar…

_Dodging the sword swinging at her head, Faith rushed in and staked the vampire with an arrow. The coast was clear. The only vampires left standing were about to be Buffy's next victims. Faith could hear them fighting and grinned. No way were these losers going to beat Buffy._

_She turned. And that's when she a new vampire lunge out of the shadows at Buffy's back._

Willow was lying. She had to be. Finch had been in that alley to kill Buffy.

A little of the sick feeling swirling in Faith's stomach settled. Willow had probably just been spouting off – like she had during that lunch with Tara.

Faith _knew_ Willow had been lying. No way would the Mayor do any of the stuff Willow had said. He wouldn't lie about Deputy Mayor Finch working for the vampires. He wouldn't have lied to Faith. No way. The Mayor wasn't like that.

The Mayor wasn't a bad guy.

Yet her mind refused to stop. It examined and re-examined every detail of her time with the Mayor, with Willow. Hell, her entire time in Sunnydale.

There were no answers, only more questions and a lot of confusion.

Faith finally stopped jogging - and stared in shock. The Slayer House sat dead ahead.

Why here? Out of all the places in Sunnydale, why had she ended up here? Faith hesitated across the street from the large house. It blended in with the rest of the neighborhood. Maybe the lawn was better maintained. Giles had some kind of fit if the landscaping guys weren't there once a week to mow, trim, and weed.

Faith had always wanted a home just like this. The tiny, rundown apartment she'd shared with her mother and their customers had been nothing like the House.

_Body aching, Faith kept her eyes on the john as he rooted on the floor for his clothing._

"_Son of a bitch!" The pants he'd just picked up went back onto the floor, and the man stomped on them. "You should clean this place up, girlie. You aren't good enough for me to overlook roaches for a repeat performance."_

_Too bad, Faith wanted to yell. If she could find more roaches, she'd pour them all over the floor. Anything…anything was better than this. She remained chained to the sagging, single bed. Why did the men and women __**ever **__come here? The sheets reeked; they hadn't been washed in weeks. The paint on the walls and ceilings was peeling, and Faith had seen cleaner public restrooms._

Shaking off the memory, Faith started to leave. She didn't belong here. She never had. That had been clear her very first night in Sunnydale. Giles in his starched white shirt and vest. Buffy with her troupe of cheerleaders.

The pretty flowers and brightly-painted shutters across the street hid the truth. The Slayer House sucked. Faith never wanted to go inside that house of horrors again. And yet… It pulled at her.

Faith wandered closer. If she knocked, would Giles let her in? Would he back up what Willow had said at the school?

She slowly crossed the street. All of a sudden, her head buzzed, and the world went sideways until Faith had to grab the wooden arch marking the change from city sidewalk to the front walk of the House.

Shit! How could she have forgotten? Willow had sounded the alarm with Janna. If Janna had seen Faith outside the House, she might have reset those damned wards. Changed them so Faith would be trapped here. The wild tingles racing over every inch of her body indicated Faith had walked right into some big magic.

Faith turned and bolted. Nothing stopped her from leaving the House grounds. No one raced from the House after her. But those damned tingles followed Faith all the way down the street. She ran until she reached Weatherly Park before slowing. It was cooler in the shade provided by the towering trees.

As she walked along the concrete path, Faith realized she had burned her last bridge to the Slayer House when she'd held a knife to Willow's throat. When she'd drawn Willow's blood. Willow was one of the Scoobies. Buffy's best friend. The head researcher.

And Faith had threatened her. She brushed her fingers over her dagger hilt before unsheathing it. She had to yank harder than normal. It didn't slip easily from the sheath. Willow's blood had dried on the blade, sticky and dark red.

There was absolutely no chance of going back now. She had no place to go except City Hall. That worked just fine for Faith. Shoving the dagger back into its sheath, Faith strode through the park, boot heels tapping a rapid rhythm on the pathway.

* * *

Tara leaned against the cool window glass and closed her eyes. The darkness didn't help. Giles' words followed her. Faith had probably been abused. Emotionally. Physically. Sexually.

"_Don't let the bitch get away with that!" Tara's father shoved Donny out of the way and personally backhanded the young girl who already cowered away from him. "You're a Dom, boy. Act like one."_

_It was all the encouragement Donny needed. He moved in on the terrified submissive. His first blow sent her crashing to the floor._

_Watching from the kitchen, Tara knew she couldn't let Donny hurt the young girl again. She strode into the room with as much confidence as she could muster. "Stop!" For once, there was no stutter. And the word rang with authority. _

_Tara's father and Donny spun around in surprise. _

"_Get out," Tara told the girl. Her confidence soared when the submissive scrambled across the floor to safety. The front door opened and closed behind the girl, leaving Tara alone with her father and brother. _

_Surprise didn't hold them in place for long. "That sub cost a lot of money," her father growled. Before Tara could run, he'd crossed the living room. One heavy hand caught Tara in the jaw._

_Reeling, she tripped over her own feet and landed on the arm of the couch. Pain flared in time with a dull, snapping sound. _

Oh, Goddess. Not Faith, too. Tears blurred the sunny day outside as Tara imagined a tiny version of Faith, chin raised defiantly as she faced down whoever had hurt her.

"I'm so very sorry," Giles said behind her. "Perhaps I am wrong. Faith has never admitted any such events in her past."

Of course she hadn't. Tara had never told anyone about her father and brother. The thought of admitting what had happened, how she'd never fought back... Tara shivered and wrapped her arms more tightly over her stomach. Giles wasn't wrong. His assessment of Faith made sense, and it fit with what Tara had been reluctant to acknowledge, even to herself. She'd seen the signs: Faith's discomfort with casual touches, her rapid mood swings. The way Faith had closed off after their scene.

If you didn't let anyone close, they couldn't hurt you. Tara had been a fair hand at living that motto before Maxie and Trish had refused to take no for an answer and had forced their way into her life. Now, even more than the day before, Tara wanted to wrap Faith in her arms and keep her protected.

Giles' phone rang. Tara barely heard him pick up the handset.

If Faith was going to move beyond her past, she'd need help. Not just Tara; although Tara was more than ready to be there for Faith. She'd need professional help. Tara's conscience twinged. _She'd _never sought help in dealing with her past; how could she expect Faith to do so?

"What?" Giles' raised voice broke into Tara's concentration, and she spun around to see him hunched over his desk. "When did this happen? Did you contact the school?" He caught her watching him and waved urgently. "Janna, I know you're upset. Yes…Yes, this is definitely more than a little mischief. If you'll just calm down," he pleaded.

Janna apparently did _not _calm down. Giles flinched and pulled the handset away from his ear for a moment before doggedly returning to the conversation. "I am very sorry. I know that Willow is your submissive, but think, Janna. I am certain Faith would never hurt her."

Tara's heart stopped. She rushed to the desk and strained to hear both sides of the conversation. It wasn't as hard as she expected because Janna was yelling.

"You need to admit it, Giles. Faith is dangerous. Wes and the Council have been right all along." Janna's voice carried clearly, and Tara saw Giles instinctively begin to turn away in an effort to keep Tara from hearing.

It was far too late for that.

"I will not debate that point with you. Not in your present condition," Giles answered. He reached out a hand, gently covering Tara's where it rested in a tight fist on his desk. "Take care of Willow and then we can speak about Faith."

There was an ominous silence. Janna's next words were too soft for Tara to hear, but the _tone _wasn't. Janna was angry and out for blood. Faith's blood.

"I understand. If you feel you must contact the authorities…" Giles slowly hung up the phone. He bowed his head and didn't say anything.

That was fine with Tara. She wasn't ready to hear all the details of his conversation with Janna. She knew the most important parts. Faith was in trouble, and this time, even her supporters at the House thought she'd crossed a line.

"You heard?" Giles finally asked.

"Enough, yes." Tara moved away from the desk. She needed to think, to find Faith, to do something. Yet there was absolutely nothing she _could _do.

Except, as she circled the room pretending to examine the hundreds of books on the shelves or the pictures of a smiling Giles and Lydia, a frisson of energy skated along her nerves. Pressure built just behind her eyes and in her chest.

Tara recognized the sensations. She'd felt them twice before when Faith was upset.

They were stronger this time. Way stronger.

"_Faith?" _The link had widened. Tara trembled, needing to reach for Faith. She didn't. Faith had to make the first move. Tara wouldn't force the bond if Faith wasn't ready.

Still, she couldn't help peering hopefully through the conduit. That's when it hit her. The reason the tingling was so strong. Faith was nearby. Hurrying to the window, Tara peered down at the street.

"Tara? What is it? What's wrong?" Giles asked; Tara ignored him.

There was nothing outside. No Faith tossing pebbles at the glass with a dimpled grin. Giles' office faced away from the street, over a formal English garden. Faith wasn't standing among the manicured paths. Where was she then? She had to be close by. The feeling was so strong.

So was the pressure. Tara's head pounded. Squinting against the pain, she pushed at the link – and gained ground.

"_Faith? Sweetie, where are you?" _Please, please be there, Tara added silently.

There was no answer. This was useless. Tara gave up on the link and ran for the door. Faith was outside. Tara knew it.

Only…the porch was empty. Tara hurried to the street and peered up and down the sidewalk. Her sense of Faith continued to dwindle. "No!" This couldn't be happening. Faith had been here; she'd nearly completed the bond. "Where are you, Faith? And why won't you let me in?" Giving the empty street one last, frustrated glare, Tara marched back into the House.

Giles met her in the foyer. "What happened? Why did you run out?"

"I have to go." Tara sidestepped his questions. She wasn't admitting that Faith had been outside. He'd probably call Janna or the police. "I…I forgot I have somewhere to be." As she said it, Tara realized it was the truth. She did need to be somewhere. With Faith. Trish had been right when she'd reminded Tara that Faith hadn't moved away.

If Tara wanted to see her, all she had to do was go to City Hall.


	35. Chapter 35

Faith nodded stiffly at Joan before entering the Mayor's office. For once, there was no phone pressed to his ear. He sat at a large table shoved into the back corner of his office, books spread out all over the surface.

It looked like a research party.

Her footsteps faltered. Why did everything remind Faith of the Slayer House? It didn't matter that the Mayor was reading some big-ass, dusty books. Peering closer, Faith saw they were the ones she'd gotten from Skyler. The Mayor wasn't Giles (or, thankfully, Wes). She wasn't going to get a lecture on the proper ways to use an index page or how to safely handle a crumbling roll of parchment. "Boss."

The Mayor glanced up and waved her over. "Faith! I didn't expect you back so soon. How was your visit with Ms. Rosenberg?"

Faith's hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger. She'd been doing that a lot since leaving Weatherly Park. The knife was a physical reminder. Faith had crossed a line; there was no going back. "Did what you wanted," Faith told him. Skirting his desk, she grabbed a chair from the table, spun it, and sat down with her arms dangling over the backrest.

"Did what?" His gaze was searching, and Faith's hands gripped the chair back tightly as she fought the urge to look away.

"I told her to leave you the fuck alone." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Faith braced for his reaction.

It wasn't long in coming. "Faith, I told you to watch your language" The Mayor shook a finger in her direction. "I know you're better than that. If you want people to appreciate you like I do, you need to be more polite."

Dropping her eyes to the table, Faith mumbled, "Yes, Sir."

"Good. I knew you'd understand, Faith. Now…" The Mayor's tone lightened. "Tell me everything, every little detail about your visit."

Faith raised her eyes a little. The Mayor nearly wiggled in his chair with excitement. A smile crept out at his antics. "Ya' need to hit the head, Boss? 'Cause I can wait."

"Ah!" He held out his hands, as if strangling an invisible neck. Probably her neck. "Get on with it. Please! I can't stand the suspense. Did she lie? I bet she did. And, knowing you, Faith, you didn't believe a word of it. How did you do it? How did you get her to stop messing with my computers?"

The Mayor was right. Willow _had _lied. "Looks like you know the story already." Her hand gripped the hilt of the dagger. "'Cept the part where I told her to back off and leave ya' alone." The knife cleared the sheath, and Faith held it aloft. "I don't think you got to worry about Willow no more." The boastful words were out before Faith had time to filter them. She'd done what the Mayor had wanted. She'd gotten Willow to stop.

If there was a tiny part of Faith's conscience that wasn't happy about that… Well, it was easy to ignore.

The Mayor leaned forward, eyes intent. "Did you kill her, Faith?"

Faith's thrill at a job well done disappeared beneath an icy chill. "No! I just nicked her a little. Made some threats. Scared her, you know?" Then a kernel of honesty forced her to admit, "Pretty sure she called her Domme. Snyder and his rent a cops chased me outta the school."

Getting up, the Mayor crouched in front of Faith. He took the knife and placed it on the table before taking her hands in his. "Thank you." His grip tightened until Faith met his gaze. "I know that wasn't easy for you. Willow was a friend. But you've taken a big step, Faith. You've shown me that your loyalty is _here_, with me, and not with that horrible Slayer House. I'm proud of you."

The tiny flare of Faith's conscience shrunk under his warm regard. "Told you I'd do anything you need, Sir." But she couldn't resist squeezing his hands in return.

"That's just what I wanted to hear. This is a very critical time for me, Faith. I've told you that before. You've got an important part to play in everything coming up." With a playful groan, the Mayor stood and released her hands. "I'm so glad you're part of my team. I couldn't _begin _to plan for the next hundred days without you."

* * *

A little of Tara's determination faltered as she entered the lobby at City Hall. Groups of kids with harried-looking teachers filled the space, and a bored security guard lounged behind an information desk.

She couldn't imagine Faith working here.

Forcing herself forward, Tara stopped in front of the desk. "Excuse me," she politely announced. "I'm here to see Faith." Embarrassment burned her cheeks; Tara didn't even know Faith's last name.

It was enough for the guard, however. "Let me call Joan. I don't know if Faith's here right now." He lifted a phone from its cradle and punched in a few numbers on the console. "It's Tim, at the front desk. Got someone here looking for Faith." Tilting his head, he listened intently. "OK. Yeah. I'll tell her." Tim hung up. "If you'll just wait over there," he motioned to a sitting area to one side, "someone's coming out to talk to you."

Someone. Not Faith.

The gray-upholstered couch was nice, but Tara couldn't get comfortable. She shifted over and over. Was Faith here? The link was still open. Or, more open than it had been the day before. Tara caught more emotions now.

Faith was…happy. Pleased. Maybe a little embarrassed. Tara's lips curled. She'd like to see that. Did Faith blush? Maybe get shy?

Goddess, where was this _someone _who was supposed to come take her to Faith? Her fingers drummed on the cushion. This was crazy. City Hall wasn't that big. She could have found Faith's office by herself by now.

"Hello? Are you here to see Faith?" The woman was older and dressed in a conservative gray skirt and white blouse.

"Yes." Tara shot off the couch so fast the woman backed up in surprise. "Is she here?"

Hand pressed over her heart, the woman eyed Tara warily. "My name is Joan. I'm Mayor Wilkins' secretary. Faith's in his office right now and I don't want to disturb them. Would you like to leave a message? I'm sure she'll be free in a while."

Tara hadn't come all the way down here to leave a message. "Is there someplace I could wait?"

Joan hesitated. She hadn't expected that response. "I guess…"

"Maybe in your office?" Tara interrupted. "That way, Faith won't have to come all the way out here to talk to me. It's really very important I speak to her." Tara gave Joan a beseeching look.

The older woman folded. "I suppose that will be alright. It's this way." She turned and led the way to a hallway on the other side of the lobby. With each step, the buzz under Tara's skin grew. "The Mayor doesn't really encourage walk-in appointments. Are you sure you can't set up a time to meet with Faith?"

"I'm positive," Tara said firmly. She moved closer to Joan to prove she'd follow her anywhere – as long as she got to see Faith.

Joan gave in. She led Tara to the back of the building. Her desk sat just inside a glass-fronted waiting area. Another door that Tara assumed led to the Mayor's office was safely behind Joan's desk. "Please have a seat…" she hesitated.

"Tara." Sitting down, Tara picked up an old magazine from the coffee table in the waiting area. She didn't see a single one of the glossy ads or articles. Her eyes watched the door to the Mayor's office. Faith was in there. Tara could feel her.

Unfortunately, Faith was in the Mayor's office – and she stayed there. Tara pretended to read every page of every magazine four times. Joan glanced up each time she turned a page.

"Are you sure…" Joan began.

"Yes. I'll wait." Baring her teeth in a smile, Tara picked up the first magazine in her rotation. It was just as uninteresting the fifth time around. Luckily, the Mayor's door sprang open before she ripped the pages out in frustration. Hopping up, she watched Faith come out, followed by the Mayor.

"…two or three, Faith. And I'll want to approve them first, of course," the Mayor was saying.

Faith nodded. "Sure, Boss." She was cute when she concentrated. Tara smiled, her mood already lightening. "You want me to let ya' know who I'm lookin' at?" She finally noticed Tara standing in the office.

For one wild moment, Tara thought this was it. The hairs on her arm sprang to attention and the bond came alive. Faith even smiled – and Tara grinned back.

Then the smile faded and Faith's expression grew guarded. "What are you doin' here?" she demanded.

Tara had envisioned this meeting far differently. They were supposed to be alone. Faith was supposed to be happy to see her. Reality was such a letdown. "I thought maybe we could go to lunch?" Tara tried for innocent and light-hearted. "Someone told me Slayers are always hungry."

A little of Faith's smile returned. "And I ain't had breakfast."

"You're a friend of Faith's?" The Mayor stepped in front of Tara and held out his hand. "Fabulous. She's a big part of what we do here," he said enthusiastically.

Shaking hands with the Mayor was the last thing Tara wanted. However, her mother had raised her right. She clasped his hand briefly. "It's nice to meet you," she lied. Then she tried to steer the conversation back on the right path. "Sweetie, do you have time for lunch? If you can't go out, I can bring something back here."

Faith's eyes darted between Tara and the Mayor. "Uh…"

"Come on," Tara urged. "I owe you. Remember my first lunch at the House when I tried to starve you with half a sandwich? I'll do better this time. I promise." She held out her hand, their usual signal that Faith was on board. Faith made no move to take it, though, and after a very long moment, Tara numbly dropped her hand to her side.

"You're with the Council?" The Mayor asked. He shared a long glance with Faith. "I thought you said you were a friend of Faith's?"

His implication was clear – and Tara resented it. "I _am _Faith's friend." She barely managed to keep her voice level and polite. "We miss her at the House. She was a big part of the team there, too."

The comment was a mistake. "The fuck I was!" Faith's posture altered. From uncertain to angry in the blink of an eye. "The Council wanted to turn me off."

Conscious of the Mayor avidly watching their exchange, Tara backed off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know you weren't happy at the House. I just remember how much I enjoyed our lunch and the tour you gave me." Afraid to look away, to lose her tenuous connection with Faith, Tara added. "And the lesson you taught me on Slayer History."

The gentle approach worked. Some of Faith's aggression disappeared; her shoulders dropped, and her hands came out of her pockets. "Yeah, the lesson I taught. Ain't nobody as good as me at teachin'."

"Another hidden talent, Faith?" The Mayor landed a hand on her shoulder, interrupting Tara and Faith's not-so-private conversation again. His voice was jovial. A father figure congratulating his favorite child.

And Faith lit up. Tara had never seen her so open, so happy. A twinge started in her chest. A tiny twinge that grew to a breath-stealing ache. Faith should look like that with _Tara, _not the Mayor. Not a man who wanted to be a demon. Transfixed with jealousy, she watched Faith grin at the Mayor. "I got mad skills, Boss."

So did the Mayor, Tara thought. He was an experienced Dominant. A man who knew just what to say and do to flatter someone like Faith. Tara's anger drowned under a wave sadness. Whatever else the Mayor was or did, Faith had never looked younger or happier. The stupid Council had done nothing but tell her how horrible she was.

"Why don't you go to lunch, Faith? I'm sure those applications will still be on Joan's desk when you get back," the Mayor encouraged. "It's a nice day out. Enjoy it. There will be plenty of time for you to be stuck behind a desk on a million boring phones calls like me. Besides, those new guards have waited this long. They can wait another day. It's not like there are vampires coming in and out of City Hall at all hours."

Something changed as soon as the Mayor made that final comment. Every bit of life drained out of Faith. "Sorry, T."

"T," not "Tara." Paired with the new, grim cast to Faith's expression, Tara braced for the worst.

Her worst wasn't bad enough.

"I can't do lunch," Faith said.

The Mayor shook his head. "Faith, your friend came all the way down here…"

At first, Tara was confused. Why would the Mayor encourage Faith to go to lunch? Then she actually _looked _at him rather than focus on Faith. He was watching her, too. Watching with such an air of anticipation that her skin chilled.

"Nah, Boss. I got work to do." Taking a step away from Tara, a step closer to the Mayor, Faith added, "Besides, I ain't part of the House anymore. It's time to move on."


End file.
